


The Galilei Program

by Dean_can_ride_my_impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe-Geniuses, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Genius!Castiel, Genius!Dean, I know nothing about math, Jock!Dean, John's A-plus parenting, M/M, Smart Dean Winchester, but later on, dean is like crazy smart, john is a fucking jerk, liberal use of mathematics vocabulary, there's gonna be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_can_ride_my_impala/pseuds/Dean_can_ride_my_impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is just your regular high school student. He's pretty good at sports, pretty good at getting the ladies, and pretty good at taking care of his brother.<br/>And apparently, he's pretty good at solving impossible mathematical problems that have plagued the nightmares of mathematicians all around the world for decades.<br/>Who knew?<br/>Now he just needs to learn how to balance his life as a normal all-around American jock and mathematical genius. Should be pretty easy, right?<br/>If only he could get the weird kid with the unbelievable blue eyes out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2 S of a C

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I came up with after a pretty long writer's block. My 'My Cover is God' fic is on hold until I fix a tiny (huge) plot problem. Until then, enjoy some Dean/Cas fluff

Dean Winchester was your typical high school jock. He had the good-looks, the exceptional physical abilities, the coolest friends, and the fuck-if-I-care attitude. Of course, he was also dating the hottest chick in school, Lisa Braeden. That girl was _bend-y_. And she gave head like a fucking pro.

But of course, like any other girl, she was boring. Or at least, she was now. At the beginning, Dean had thought she hung the moon and the stars…but a couple of blowjobs later, a quick succession of hard fucks, and multiple make-out sessions had taken the excitement right out of their relationship.

Now, Cassie Robinson. Straight A student, daughter of the local pastor, President of the Abstinence Group. Now _that_ was a challenge.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It,” she snapped before Dean could say anything.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean whined, leaning against the locker next to hers. He could see a nervous freshman waiting for him to move, but he ignored the twitchy kid. “I just wanna be friends.”

“You fuck all of your friends,” Cassie said.

“I haven’t fucked Benny.”

“Because he has a dick,” Cassie rolled her eyes. “I’m not a fuck-her-and-ditch-her girl. I respect myself.”

“And I respect you too!” Dean insisted. “I don’t wanna fuck you—wait!” he quickly said as Cassie made to walk away. “Okay, okay. I do wanna fuck you. BUT! _But_ , that’s not all I wanna do. I like you,” he added softly, leaning just a bit closer and giving her the classic Winchester smile. The one that had gotten him Robin, and Pam, and Rhonda. “What’d you say?”

“I say…” Cassie murmured, leaning just a bit closer. Dean bit his lip to keep a smirk away, and leaned in closer, too. Fuck, he could already feel the heat of Cassie’s pussy around his cock. She was gonna be so fucking—“…that you have a girlfriend. Bye, Winchester!”

“Wait—what? Cassie!” Dean yelled, but the girl simply waved her hand in goodbye, not turning around.

“Dean Winchester!”

“Fuck,” Dean cursed, and tried to pretend he hadn’t heard the shrill, high voice.

“Dean, please!”

Would flat out running be considered disrespectful? Was he willing to chance it? A tiny, but vice-like hand wrapped around his bicep before he could really think about it, and whipped him around.

“Hey, Miss Rosen,” Dean said awkwardly, looking down at the slightly—read: very much so—eccentric woman. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m very fine, thank you,” she said primly. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you—.”

“Sorry, Miss, but I gotta go,” Dean said. “If I’m late one more time, Mr. Roman will kill me.”

“I can give you a pass,” Miss Rosen said firmly, and fuck, the woman had a strong grip. Dean sighed and resigned himself to following the Guidance Counselor.

As far as head shrinks went, Miss Rosen was a pretty good one. She really liked the students, tried (and often failed) to connect with them in a deeper level, and she was an all-around great person. But she was still nosy, weird, and just a tiny bit too interested in keeping her hand on Dean’s biceps.

He thought she was going to lead him to her office; instead, he found himself being sent to the Principal’s Office. He quickly racked his brain, trying to remember what he had done wrong this week. Pranked a teacher? No, that was last week. Fight? Not since Albert and his stupid snitch mouth. What, then—fuck, did they know about Jo’s party? But that wasn’t going to happen on school grounds. And besides, it was _Jo’s_ party, not Dean’s! Why did he have to suffer for it?

Miss Rosen knocked on the dark wooden door, and a stern voice commanded her to open. Dean immediately crossed his arms upon entering the room. There were about three other teachers in the room, all of them Dean’s. Mr. Adler, his English teacher. Miss White, his Government teacher. Mr. Sucherman, his Physics teachers.

Principal Joshua was seated behind his desk, staring at Dean calmly. He was also a pretty cool guy, but he was a stickler for the rules. Dean was on a first name basis with the man, and he liked to think the only reason why he hadn’t been expelled already was because Joshua had a soft spot for him.

“Have a seat, Mr. Winchester,” Joshua said calmly, motioning to the empty chair in front of him.

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean answered instead, not moving.

Mr. Adler snickered, but Joshua only smiled. “You’re not being punished, Dean. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” Dean asked suspiciously, still not taking the seat.

Joshua sighed, but he knew Dean well enough to know the boy wasn’t going to say anything until he got his questions answered. “A couple of your teachers talked to me about your grades. They think you’re unfit to be in their classes, and I—.”

“What? They’re saying I’m stupid?” Dean snapped. What the fuck? Yeah, he wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t stupid! So he didn’t apply himself. Big whoop. It wasn’t like he was expecting to go to college. His Dad barely had enough money to buy himself a coffin, let alone sent Dean to college. Why the fuck should he care about school when Bobby had already guaranteed him a job at the garage? Wasn’t that why people went to school anyway? To get a job?

“Dean, can you complete these sentences?” Mr. Adler interrupted, showing him a large card with five sentences written on them. “Two S of a C?”

“I’m not stupid!” Dean snapped.

“They’re not that hard,” Mr. Adler insisted, pointing to the first one. “See? 24 H to a D. Twenty-four hours to a day. Can you do it?”

“Principal Josh—.”

“This is the easiest!” Mr. Adler interrupted, bringing up a second card. “C’mon, just try it, Dean.”

“Dean, would you just complete the sentences?” Joshua pleaded. “Please?”

“You just have to complete five, and we’ll know you’re not that dumb,” Mr. Adler smirked.

“Zachariah,” Joshua said in a warning tone, but Dean ignored both of them. He walked up to the bald-headed son of a bitch and snapped the five cards from him.

“Four chambers of the human heart. Twelve disciples of Jesus. Six zeroes in a million. 1.6 kilometers in a mile. Xbox 360. Eight hours in a regular work day. Two—.”

“Dean, that’s enough,” Miss Rosen interrupted. “We have what we needed.”

“Two players in a duet,” Dean continued, eyes locked with Mr. Adler’s. “Forty days of Lent. The square root of negative one is an imaginary number. 10241 bytes in a kilobyte. Every single Hollywood movie phone number starts with 555. Three major temperature scales—Celsius, Fahrenheit, and Kelvin. Forty-two is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. The distance to Alpha Centauri is approximately four light years. Jupiter has sixty-two moons. 191 United Nations member states. Fifty-two white keys on a piano. Ten is two in binary. Fifty-four squares in a Rubik’s Cube. Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. One Olympic games every four years. Twelve numbers on a clock. Seven deadly sins. And two S of a C is two sides of a coin. Can I leave now?”

Mr. Adler was gaping at him, mouth wide and tongue lolling just a bit. He looked like a frog about to swallow a fly, and Dean had to fight to keep from laughing. Joshua also looked surprised, and Miss Rosen was staring at her watch like it had eaten her wrist. 

“I, uh—yes!” Joshua murmured, still staring incredulously at Dean. “You can return to your class.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Dean muttered and slammed the door open. Joshua’s secretary looked up in surprise, but he ignored her too and stomped back to class.

Him? Stupid? Fuck them! Yeah, he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he wasn’t a fucking retard. So what if Sammy was the genius? Dean knew that. He was average—maybe even below average. But that was good enough for Bobby. That was good enough for Sam. Dean was better with his hands anyway. He didn’t need a fancy degree. Didn’t need to go to college. Sammy was the one with the smarts, the one aiming for the stars.

But it was one thing to _know_ that you weren’t gonna amount to much, and another completely different thing to be _told_ that you couldn’t. And it was even worse when a jackass like Mr. Adler was the one to tell you.

“Late again, Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Roman said as Dean entered the classroom. “What a surprise.”

“I was in the Principal’s office,” Dean muttered, not in the mood to the face off with the quite truthfully terrifying teacher.

“I believe that,” Mr. Roman said, and the class snickered. “Go to your seat.”

Dean gave him a glare, but obeyed. Benny, his best friend and all-around closest companion, took one look at him and knew better than to talk to him.

Fucking Zachariah.


	2. Galilei Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is beta'd! Thanks to Dinkydog and Inferification for helping make this fic into something readable. Any mistakes are mine

Dean had forgotten about the incident with Miss Rosen by the next couple of days. It all came back two weeks later, when he tried to copy Benny’s assignment. His grade in Calculus had gone dangerously low, and if he didn’t bring it at least to a C plus, Coach Tuner would kick him off the team.

So he took a quick peek at Benny’s work, just to make sure his answers were correct. But Benny had a completely different worksheet. He frowned, and turned to look at Jo’s on his left. She had the same worksheet as Benny. Tony in front of him did, too, and so did Jesse behind him.

“Mr. Winchester, keep your eyes to yourself,” Mr. Guilbeaux snapped from the front of the room.

“Uh, sorry Mr. G, but I think I have the wrong worksheet,” Dean said. Benny frowned and glanced at his work.

“You have the correct paper, Mr. Winchester.”

“Nah, Mr. G. Mine is different,” Dean insisted.

Mr. Guilbeaux sighed. “Miss Rosen assigned you special work, Mr. Winchester. If you weren’t trying to copy your friends, you wouldn’t have noticed.”

What? What kind of special assignment? He glanced down at his worksheet and the stupidly easy questions. He had thought he had misunderstood them because they were too easy. Mr. G would never give him work so easy. This was elementary school shit! When would all of these people understand that Dean wasn’t a fucking retard!

“This is fucking kid’s shit!” Dean said angrily, glaring at Mr. Guilbeaux.

“Dean! Watch your mouth,” Mr. Guilbeaux snapped. “You’re getting the same grade for it as your classmates. So just do your work, and be quiet.”

“Come on, brother. Just do it,” Benny whispered.

Dean glared at his desk. Fucking teachers. Like he even needed school. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck to get rid of the embarrassed blush that had taken hold there, picked up his pencil, and continued to work.

 

Dean was in a horrible mood by the time school let out. Lisa had found out he had hit on Cassie and had broken up with him. He had checked his assignments in each of his classes and discovered he always had different ones. Some were easier, some were harder. When he came home, he found five more missed calls from school, and about three unopened letters.

And his dad’s drunk ass crashed in the living room.

“Dean, why is that drunk hobo in our sofa?” Sam asked, staring at their father’s prone form.

“Go to your room,” Dean said, pushing him towards the stairs. “Go do your homework; I’ll get dinner ready.”

“Tell him to take a shower. He stinks.” Sam grumbled, but obeyed.

Dean stared at his father, taking in the vomit stains near the coffee table, and the unmistakable stench of piss. He sighed, and started picking up the empty beer bottles. He managed to wake up his dad enough for him to take a shower, then sent him to his room to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

After that, he started on dinner.

“What are you making?” Sam asked, entering the kitchen.

“Chicken and rice,” Dean said. “With lemonade. You’re done with your work?”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ll do it later,” Dean lied. He still needed to clean the vomit stains from the carpet, catch the nine o’clock shift at Ellen’s bar, and be back in time to make breakfast for Sam. If he did his homework, he wouldn’t have time to sleep.

“Sam!” John yelled from his room. “Sam!”

“I’ll go,” Dean said quickly, but Sam stopped him.

“I’ll go,” Sam said. “I can handle him.”

Dean nodded, and bit his lip as he watched his little brother leave. His dad wouldn’t do anything to Sam. He had never raised his hand against Sam. Now Dean… Well, he had a way of making his dad exceptionally angry.

A knock on the door startled him. He frowned, staring at the closed door. Was Sam expecting a friend?

“I’m coming!” he yelled at the sound of the second knock. “Hey, how can I—Miss Rosen?”

“Hello, Dean,” she smiled, waving at him. “Is your father home?”

“I—what are you doing here?” Dean asked, surprised.

“I need to speak to your father,” Miss Rosen said. “Is he here?”

“Uh, no, I’m sorry. He’s—”

“Dean, who’s at the door?”

He closed his eyes, then very slowly turned to look at his dad. “Hey, dad,” he said weakly.

“Who are you?” John snapped, staring at Miss Rosen.

“Mr. Winchester? Hi, I’m Becky Rosen. I’m a counselor at Dean’s school. Can I speak to you?”

“What’d you do wrong this time, boy?” John growled, eyes on Dean.

“Oh, this isn’t—I’m not here for that,” Miss Rosen said quickly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, stepping back to let her in. “Um, do you wanna eat something? I made dinner.”

“Oh, I—yes, I would love that,” she said, smiling brightly.

Dean nodded and led the way to the kitchen. His father took his spot at the head of the table, and started eating as soon as Dean set a plate in front of him. Sam was a little more courteous, waiting until Miss Rosen had started to eat his food.

“So, what do you want?” John asked, chewing on a piece of chicken.

“Did you receive any of my calls or letters?” Miss Rosen asked curiously.

“No. Haven’t been home in a few days. Working,” John said. “What are they about?”

“I have one here with me. Here you go,” Miss Rosen smiled, handing him a piece of paper.

Dean stared at the letter as it passed hands. Was Miss Rosen here to tell his father he was stupid? What the hell kind of counselor did that?

“What the hell is this?” John snapped. “Special classes? Are you some kind of idiot, boy?” his dad growled, looking at Dean.

“N-No, this isn’t about that!” Miss Rosen rushed to say, staring at John with wide eyes.

“So what? Is he…you know, slow?”

“Dad! Dean isn’t slow,” Sam snapped. “And Dean isn’t stupid.”

“Sam is right,” Miss Rosen said, a tiny hint of panic entering her voice. “Dean isn’t stupid. On the contrary, he’s a genius!”

There was a pause in the Winchester home, then John burst out laughing. “Yeah, right,” he said in between laughs. “A genius. What do you really want, lady?”

Miss Rosen looked offended. “Mr. Winchester, your son has an IQ of 172! By most standards, he is a genius.”

“Uh, ma’am? Are you sure you’re not talking about Sam?” Dean asked quickly.

“Dean!” Sam snapped. “What the hell, dude?”

“No,  your brother’s right, Sam,” John said seriously. He turned to Miss Rosen. “Sam is the smart one. Are you sure you didn’t test him?”

“I am sure Sam is very smart, but the test was given to Dean,” Miss Rosen snapped. “Our school is famous for our Galilei Program, which has the nation’s brightest students. Your son scored a grade higher than sixty percent of them. These are some of the tests given to him.”

She took out a couple of papers from her case, and Dean recognized some of the worksheets given to him during class. Sam and his dad took a couple of papers and looked them over.

“Dean, you answered these?” Sam asked, surprised. “Dude, this is, like, super hard!”

“So what?” John snapped. “What do you want to do? Put him in some fancy class? In case you haven’t noticed, lady, I don’t have the money to put him some through rich ass school. And the boy is lazy! What good is being smart when he won’t do his work?”

“We believe Dean slacked in his school work because it was all too easy for him,” Miss Rosen said. “Now, because of Dean’s higher intellect, he has been invited to attend free of charge. Not only that, I took the liberty of entering him in a couple of grant programs, and he has been accepted into two of them. If he does well in his classes, he will be paid a combination of five thousand dollars a month, simply to have him continue his education. And attendance to our Galilei Program guarantees that he will be accepted to any school he wishes to attend. With his intellect, there are hundreds of scholarships available to him!”

“College? Dean is gonna be a mechanic,” John said firmly. “He’s gonna get a job at a garage.”

Dean leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. A genius? This was some kind of joke, right? First, he was stupid, now he was some kind of Einstein wannabe? Besides, what else could he do but be a mechanic? He liked fixing things, and there was nothing wrong with that. He loved cars, he loved taking things apart, learning how they worked and putting them back together.

“Dad, this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Sam said excitedly. “Dean can go to college! He doesn’t have to work at some stupid garage!”

“I like working there,” Dean murmured.

Sam glanced at him. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly. “But Dean…you can be much more! You can work, like, at NASA! Building rockets! Or you can be some kind of genius engineer. You can even have your own garage and build your own cars. Have your own brand and everything!”

“This is how they get you, Sam,” John snapped. “They take these kids, put a label on them, and once they grow up, they throw them in the trenches. Watch, the shine is gonna go away soon, and your brother will just be another kid who did well on a test. Hell no. We don’t want anything from you, lady. You can leave.”

“But, dad…”

“Mr. Winchester, if I could—”

“Leave!”

Dean winced and lowered his eyes. Miss Rosen picked up all of her work quickly and stood up.

“I hope you reconsider this, Mr. Winchester,” Miss Rosen said gently. “You could be changing your son’s life.”

“Yeah, yeah. The door’s through there.”

“This is the worst thing you’ve done,” Sam growled once Miss Rosen had stepped out. “Dean deserves something better than your drunk ass!”

“I will not be spoken to like that!” John yelled.

Dean blocked him out. Five thousand dollars a month, just for going to school. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t need to go to work. He could take care of Sam, feed him real food, every night. He was going to finally be able to buy him new clothes, instead of just giving him his old ones. And he could even save up for when Sam went to college! He was sure someone was going to realize he really wasn’t a genius soon enough. It had probably been a fluke, an error of some kind. But until then, Dean could ride the wave. Get the money, take care of Sam, and enjoy a couple of weeks of good sleep. Then, once the school realized how stupid they had been, Dean would return to his normal classes, but a couple of thousand dollars richer.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go make sure Miss Rosen leaves okay,” Dean murmured, and walked out before his father could stop him.

Miss Rosen was still in her car when he stepped out. She was sitting on the driver’s seat, head resting on the steering wheel. Dean knocked softly on the window, and she jumped.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, lowering the window. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad isn’t home a whole lot,” Dean said quickly.

“Okay, what does—?”

“I learned how to forge his signature,” Dean continued. “You know, to check Sam’s grades. I—I wanna go to that Program.”

Miss Rosen stared at him, surprised. “Dean—”

“He won’t find out,” Dean quickly assured her. “He’s hardly ever home. And he never pays attention to what happens in school. Please, Miss Rosen.”

Miss Rosen stared at him quietly for a couple of minutes, and Dean forced his eyes to lower in a poor imitation of Sam’s famous puppy eyes. It seemed to work, because Miss Rosen sighed and searched her case for the form.

“Don’t tell anybody,” she said firmly, handing him the form. “I really think this will help you,” she added. “You deserve better.”

Yeah, right. “Thank you.”

Miss Rosen gave him a wide smile. “This is good for you, Dean. You’ll see.”


	3. First Encounters

The Galilei kids were better known as the Geek Squad. They shared the same school as the rest of them, but they studied in a separate building. They had their own classes, their own cafeteria, their own everything. The only time the regular kids saw them was during gym class, when they shared the track.

Dean had no idea what went on inside the Galilei building. He had met with Miss Rosen in her office during first period, and she had spent about half an hour going over his new classes.

“It’s going to be a little strange at first, but I’m sure you’ll fit right in soon enough,” Miss Rosen smiled.

“I can still see my friends, right? During lunch?” Dean asked.

“Of course. We offer a different cafeteria to Galilei students, but it’s not obligatory,” Miss Rosen said. “Now, let’s go to your new class.”

Miss Rosen’s office was near the exit, right across from the Galilei building. He followed quietly behind, getting more nervous by the second. He was already imagining the thousand ways he could embarrass himself within the first ten minutes, and his fears only increased once he stepped foot inside the building.

It was some shit straight out of TV. The walls were painted a creamy peach color, the floors were dark wood and there weren’t even any scratch marks. Instead of lockers lining the walls, there were cubbies built into them, like they had had in kindergarten. These kids had just left their stuff out there, for anybody to take.

“I’m sure you’ll make new friends soon enough,” Miss Rosen said excitedly. “They can show you around the building. As you know, there is a private cafeteria—don’t worry, all of the food is complimentary with your new school I.D. badge, so you don’t have to pay for anything. There is also an inside track, though that’s just for recreational fun. You don’t have a physical education class since you have football during your last hour. There is a fully equipped gym that is open 24/7; your I.D. is the key. The same with the computer lab, the library, the pool, and the music room.”

“Wow. And we had to share lockers with the freshmen back in Kripke,” Dean muttered.

“Dean, most of these students pay a tuition of about forty thousand a year. It may be connected to the main school, but Galilei is like a school on its own. They don’t even share faculty,” Miss Rosen reminded him.

“And are you sure I’m smart enough to go here?” Dean asked, letting a little of his nervousness color his tone.

“Your intelligence seems to focus on mathematics and science. Which is strange because you use your right brain the most. I swear, you are the most empathetic person I have ever met. And your creativity! It seems you have found the perfect way to combine both your creative and critical thinking skills.”

“Uh, thank you…?” Dean said, frowning. You’d think for a genius, he’d understood what the hell Miss Rosen was talking about.

“Oh, well. This is your first class. Literature, with Miss Naomi,” Miss Rosen said, and Dean realized they had stopped in front of a classroom.

In neat little letters, on a plaque right next to the handle, read the words ‘Professor Naomi Collins: Classical Literature’.

Miss Rosen knocked on the door, and Dean heard the soft murmur of voices inside lull. He swallowed thickly, and followed when Miss Rosen opened the door.

There were only nine other students inside, all of them Dean’s age. Four girls and five boys, seated on a round table. There was desk on the back wall, but the teacher was sitting on the table with her students.

Dean was reminded of the King Arthur story he used to read to Sam when they were little.

“Miss Rosen, how can I help you?” asked Miss Naomi. She was a very well-put together, probably strict as hell, woman. Her hair was pinned back in a bun, and she was wearing a straight-laced pin-suit.

“Hi, Miss Naomi!” Miss Rosen said. “I just came to drop off your new student. This is Dean Winchester. He’s a transfer from Kripke High, and he will be studying with you from now on.”

 

Dean squirmed under his letter jacket, and instinctively hid his sweaty palms in his pockets. He was suddenly glad for his upturned collar, since it hid the blush on the nape of his neck.

“Oh yes. Mr. Winchester. I was told about you,” Miss Naomi said, her voice creepily void of tone. “Thank you, Rebecca. You can leave now.”

“Yes,” Miss Rosen said nervously. “Well Dean, good luck!” she said happily. “Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s your schedule. All of the rooms are clearly labeled, as are the hallways. I am confident you will be able to find you way around the building,” Miss Rosen smiled. “Bye, kids!”

“Good-bye, Miss Rosen,” a couple of students said, and then Dean’s only familiar face left the room.

“Mr. Winchester, please, have a seat,” Miss Naomi said, motioning to one of the only empty spots. Dean obeyed.

The chairs were comfortable as hell, and they were apart enough from each other that he could sprawl his legs and not knock them on the girl seated to his right.

“Have you read Dangerous Liaisons?” Miss Naomi asked him, raising her own paperback.

“Uh…that’s the one with the two jerks, right?” Dean asked, very much cowed by the woman’s intense stare. He already knew not mess with her. He heard a couple of snickers, but ignored them.

“Jerks?” Miss Naomi asked, contempt clear in her voice. “Could you elaborate?”

“You know…the Marquise and uh, the Viscount. They ruin Cécile’s and the Chevalier’s lives. I mean, Madame Volanges was totally right to trash-talk the Viscount. That guy’s an asshole. I was totally for Danceny winning that duel. I felt bad for Cécile and the Présidente at the end, though.”

“Very good, Mr. Winchester,” Miss Naomi said. “Did you like it?”

“Eh, not really,” Dean shrugged. “I already know people are assholes. Why write about stuff like that? I mean, like the Great Gatsby…Daisy Buchanan is one of the most underestimated characters in that novel. Or The Picture of Dorian Gray…another asshole ruining lives, this time for the sake of beauty and youth, and sprinkled with just a dash of homoerotic subtext to have the critics over analyzing Wilde’s intentions. Personally, I go for novels like Nineteen Eighty-Four, or To Kill a Mockingbird. Though, now that I think about it, that is definitely a story about people being assholes. And I still think Atticus is the main character, no matter what Sammy says.”

“You’ve read all of those?” the red-head sitting on his right asked, her eyebrow raised in skepticism.

“When I was younger,” Dean nodded. “I stopped having the time as soon as I got into high school. Spent almost a year trying to finish On the Road, but finally gave up once I got a job. Sammy read it, though. Gave me the details.”

“I have to say, Mr. Winchester; I’m impressed,” Miss Naomi said with just enough surprise in her voice for it to be an insult. “I say this deserves a day off. Take this time to meet Mr. Winchester. Quietly.” With that, she pushed her chair back and walked back to her desk.

“So…I’m Charlie,” said the red-head next to him, smiling wildly. “Nice to meet you, Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” Dean said quickly.

Charlie grinned, and pointed to the guy seated on her right. “This is Ash. Then there’s Chuck, Bela, Lilith, Kevin, Ryan, Sophie, and finally…Aaron.”

“Nice jacket,” Aaron said, giving him a classic how you doin’ smile.

“Uh, um, thanks,” Dean said awkwardly.

“You’re a football player?” Ash asked, blinking sleepily at him. “Dude, way to beat the stereotype.”

“Thanks?”

“Ash is a total stoner,” Charlie rolled her eyes. “But the dude is a genius with computers. So am I, but I at least look like an IT nerd.”

Which was the truth. With the Dr. Who t-shirt, red Converse, and the multi-fandom pins on her bag, she was the definition of a nerd. But she was cool.

“So how did they figure out you were a genius?” the petite blonde, Lilith, asked. She had a pretty voice, but her eyes were extremely creepy. They were a blue, so pale they looked almost white. Dean stared at her forehead, just to not seem rude.

“They gave me a couple of weird tests,” Dean shrugged. “They switched all of my assignments and they told me to complete these weird sentences.”

“Oh, the one like…what was it? Forty D of L.”

“Yeah, that one,” Dean nodded.

“Oh dude, that one was so irritating,” Kevin rolled his eyes. “I got like nineteen right.”

“Really? I got all of them,” Dean frowned.

“Under a minute, smartass,” Bella rolled her eyes.

Dean’s frowned deepened. “Yeah.”

There was a short, shocked silence, then Charlie spoke. “You got all twenty-five right under a minute?”

Dean hesitated. It hadn’t even been that hard. Weren’t these kids supposed to be geniuses? “Yeah,” he repeated. “Well, twenty-four.”

“Dude, even Novak didn’t do it that fast,” Ash said, with something suspiciously like awe in his voice. “He got twenty-one under a minute.”

“I got sixteen under a minute,” Charlie said. “I got stuck on the one that said one O G E four Y.”

“One Olympic games every four years,” Dean said.

“I know now,” Charlie rolled her eyes. “But it’s hard to think about it under time pressure.”

“You know which one I never got? E S H M P N S W 555. Like, what the hell is that supposed to be?” Ash muttered.

“Me, too!” Charlie nodded.

“I still don’t know what that was,” Chuck agreed.

“Einstein sells his many pants…nope, still wrong,” Sophie shrugged.

“Is that the one you got wrong, too?” Aaron asked Dean.

“No,” Dean said. “It’s every single Hollywood movie phone number starts with 555.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Charlene!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Miss Naomi!” Charlie said quickly, eyes wide.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Miss Naomi snapped. “Gather your things. You have ten minutes until the bell rings. And since you have made such great friends, you can show Mr. Winchester to his next class.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie said quietly.

Just like Miss Naomi said, exactly ten minutes later, the bell rang.

“Bye, Winchester. See you later!” Ash called after him.

“Bye!” Dean said. Ash reminded him a bit of Benny, except he was sure recreational drugs had something to do with the genius’ chill attitude, while Benny was just naturally relaxed.

“Let me check your schedule,” Charlie said. “Oh, we have math together after lunch. You can tell Anna about the Hollywood movie thing. She was pissed for like a month when she didn’t get the answer.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said distractedly. He couldn’t help but notice that almost every kid in the hallway was staring at him. Was it because of the ripped jeans and letterman jacket? Or because they knew he was the new kid? Either way, he didn’t like it.

“You have Organic Chemistry next. And it seems Miss Rosen put an engineering emphasis on your schedule,” Charlie noticed.

“Huh? I thought I had Medieval Latin next,” Dean frowned.

“No, you have that second period, but tomorrow,” Charlie said. “You have an A day and a B day. You know, to fit all twelve courses. You take six courses one day, six other ones the next day, and you alternate.”

“But I thought there were seven classes per day,” Dean said.

“You do. Your last hour is gym on both days.”

“Oh right. Football,” Dean nodded. “So how hard is Organic Chemistry?”

Charlie shrugged. “Mr. Stevie is pretty chill. And his class is right there. See you later, Winchester.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Dean said. Charlie smiled, saluted like Vulcan, and walked away.

Charlie was right. Mr. Stevie was a pretty cool teacher. Unfortunately, the class was absolutely boring. It seemed like the classes here were smaller, since this one only had ten students. Luckily, the time went by fast, and soon he was leaving the Galilei building, going back to Kripke for lunch.

He found Benny, Jo, and Victor seated at their usual table, but then remembered his free lunch I.D. badge and decided to go get lunch for the first time in his school life. For once, he wouldn’t have to go without food to make sure Sam had enough money to pay for his lunch.

“Winchester! Thought you had skipped class,” Jo greeted as soon as he took a seat at the table, lunch tray filled with pizza and fries.

“Yeah. Where were you?” Victor asked, and stole a couple of his fries.

“None of your business,” Dean snapped, slapping his hand away. He didn’t know whether to tell his friends or not. On one hand, it was going to be pretty hard to hide, but he was a little afraid they wouldn’t believe him. Dean had long ago proven that intelligence wasn’t his biggest strength. And what would they say when he got kicked out? Would they make fun of him?

“Sorry,” Victor frowned. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Nothing,” Dean muttered.

“Dean! Dean!”

“Oh my god,” Dean moaned, letting his head fall on the table. He had forgotten all about Sam. Usually, the middle school kids ate at their own school, but since their lunch time was longer, some of them sometimes sneaked into the high school.

“Dean, how did class go?” Sam asked excitedly, taking a seat next to him.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said weakly.

“How did it go?” Sam insisted, beaming. The poor kid was bouncing on his seat.

“What class?” Jo asked suspiciously.

“Didn’t he tell you? Dean got into Galilei!” Sam shouted.

And okay, Dean needed to stop being the cause of shocked silences. It was getting a tad insulting.

“You’re kidding, right?” Victor gasped finally, mouth moving towards a smirk.

“Let me see your schedule,” Sam said impatiently, patting Dean’s pockets.

“Dude, keep your hands to yourself,” Dean snapped, pushing him away. “Stop it, you little bitch.”

“Aha!” Sam trumped, holding up Dean’s wrinkled schedule. Quickly, Jo, Benny, and Victor gathered around him to read it over his shoulder.

“What the hell is Controls, Instrumentation, and Robotics?”

“Engineering course,” Dean sighed.

“Statics and Mechanics of solids? Sounds hard.”

“Medieval Latin? Dude, I can barely finish Huckleberry Finn.”

“Dean, are you really in Galilei?” Jo asked seriously.

Dean nodded, and bit his lips. “It’s, uh, it’s not that bad.”

“Miss Rosen said he has an IQ of 172. A genius,” Sam said proudly, and Dean felt his heart swell at the look Sam gave him.

“A genius, huh?” Jo smirked. “Dude, please tell me you’re not gonna let this go to your head.”

Dean laughed, relieved. “Oh god, no.”

“I’m friends with a genius! What am I thinking right now?” Benny asked excitedly.

“I’m smart, not psychic,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Ooh, Dean! You think I can borrow your notes on the History of Modern Political Philosophy?” Sam asked, puppy eyes in place.

Dean rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Sure thing, Sammy.”


	4. The Goldbach Conjecture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas finally shows his pretty face

Dean was in deep shit. He had been in Galilei for exactly one week and two days, and was about to get kicked out. And all because of some fucking stupid math homework.

Mr. Kelly was a hard-ass. Charlie had told him as soon as he entered the math class, and Anna—Charlie’s best friend—had only confirmed it. Dean liked the class, or at least he liked the students. The work seemed pretty easy at first, but then Mr. Kelly gave him his first homework assignment.

It was just seven problems, but they were harder than any other he had ever seen. And it wasn’t the actual problems he had difficulty with, but the vocabulary. What the hell was a solitary number? An algorithm? A conjecture?

“Mr. Winchester, you didn’t turn in your homework,” Mr. Kelly called out loud.

Dean blushed bright red and looked up. “Um, no sir.”

Mr. Kelly sighed. “I understand you are a new student, but this was due two days ago. I didn’t think it was a difficult assignment.”

“I just need a little more time,” Dean said quickly. “C’mon, Mr. Kelly. I’m doing it, I’m just having trouble with a couple of problems. Give me another day. Please.”

“Mr. Winchester, the rest of your classmates were able to complete the work in the assigned three days. Mr. Novak even turned his in a day early. Would you like his help?”

“No!” Dean said quickly. Mr. Novak was Castiel Novak, Anna’s twin brother. He was a weird kid, and when Dean said weird, he meant weird. When Anna introduced them, the kid had stared at him for five minutes straight without blinking, then insulted his clothes. He was a pompous, arrogant kid, and supposedly he was angry with Dean for figuring out the whole Hollywood movie phone thing. “I can do it. Just give me one more day, Mr. Kelly.”

Mr. Kelly sighed. “Alright. I want it on my desk by the next class. No excuses.”

“I promise, I will have it ready,” Dean said quickly. He needed to complete at least one month in this stupid program. Just enough to collect the first five grand. That would be more than enough to last him for almost four months, more if he spent it correctly and got his job back at Ellen’s.

“Dean, do you need help with some of the problems?” Charlie asked him quietly. “I can help you, you know.”

“That’s alright,” Dean murmured. “I just need like a math dictionary or something.”

“I can—”

“Miss Bradbury, eyes on your own paper. Mr. Winchester, don’t make me regret my decision.”

“Sorry, Mr. Kelly.”

Dean tried to secretly do his homework during his last two periods, but the Calculus and Bioengineering courses were hard enough even when he gave his full attention. He didn’t want to create any more problems than the one he already had.

 

He decided to skip football practice after school. He was walking across the parking lot to his Baby when he heard someone shout his name.

Not just any someone. Castiel. He decided to pretend he hadn’t heard the boy and continued walking, but the kid only kept shouting his name until Dean could practically feel him.

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean snapped, pivoting around.

Castiel stopped dead on his tracks and stared at him, blue eyes going wide.

“You didn’t stop,” Castiel said. He had a creepy voice, kind of like Miss Naomi’s, in that it didn’t have any inflection to it. Except his was more of a low growl.

“Yeah, I’m kind of in a hurry,” Dean grumbled. “What do you want?”

“Here,” Castiel said and pushed a book towards him, hitting him hard in the stomach with it.

“Ow! What the hell, man?” Dean complained, taking the book. “What is this?”

“Mathematics dictionary,” Castiel said, then turned around and left. Like literally. The moment the last syllable was out of his mouth, he just turned around and walked away.

“Freaking weirdo,” Dean muttered, glancing at the cover of the book. Hmm. The Vocabulary of the Mathematics World. This was gonna help a lot.

Two days later, Dean was in a hurry. He had read the dictionary in its entirety, which had taken a day all on its own. Then he had completed his homework for Behavioral Science and Quantum Mechanics. He had been able to finish two more problems before he fell asleep. And then he had woken up late.

So yeah, Dean was in a hurry. He still had two problems left to solve and it was already lunch.

“Just turn it in like it is,” Jo rolled her eyes. “What’s two problems?”

“It’s a seven problem assignment, so each problem is worth about fourteen points. If I leave like it is, I will make a seventy-two. And that’s assuming I got every other problem right,” Dean snapped, writing furiously.

“Uh, Dean… I don’t think this is right,” Victor said, reading over Dean’s work. “You wrote the little crocodile mouth the wrong way the second time, so no, X isn’t greater than six. It’s supposed to be X is less than negative six.”

“What?” Dean snapped, snatching the paper from him. “No, dude. When you divide by a negative number you have to reverse the inequality symbol. And when you divide a negative number by a negative number, it turns into a positive. We learned this last year, Victor.”

“Oh.”

“And what exactly are you trying to do now?” Benny asked curiously. “I didn’t see you write down any equations.”

“I’m trying to prove that the non trivial Riemann zeta function zeros all lie on the critical line.”

“Uh… Plain English, please?”

“That’s as plain as it gets.”

“Are you sure that’s math?” Jo asked.

“Yes…Goddamn it!” Dean shouted when the bell rang. “Fucking fuck. I’m so dead.”

“Dude, it’s going to be okay,” Benny said worriedly.

“No, it isn’t, Benny,” Dean yelled. “Every fucking person in that class was able to solve these stupid fucking problems and I can’t. And you wanna know why? Because I’m not a fucking genius! I had to read a fucking dictionary to even understand half of these fucking words and I’m not even done! So you know what, I’ll probably see you tomorrow in Mr. G’s class. I’m probably gonna be kicked out of that stupid fucking Program because I’m not even smart enough to show the impossibility of solving the general seventh degree equation by functions of two variables!”

“Dean—.”

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” Dean snapped. “I don’t wanna be late.” He gathered his work in silence and stomped out of the emptying cafeteria. His dad had been right. It had been a fluke. His teachers had probably gone easy on him the first few weeks. That’s why he had understood the classes. There was no way Dean was a genius. He wasn’t even smart enough to take care of his brother!

He arrived to class late. All of the other students were already seated, and had started on a different assignment.

Mr. Kelly looked up when he walked in. “Mr. Winchester. You are late. I hope this means you made time to finish my assignment?”

“No, sir,” Dean muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m still missing two,” Dean answered, staring at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. You will have to turn in what you have.”

Dean sighed and took out his work. First assignment he really gave his all to, and he had fucking gotten it wrong. What a fucking cheat.

“What is this?” Mr. Kelly asked.

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned. “It’s my homework.”

Mr. Kelly looked over his work, frowning. “Dean…This is wrong.”

“What?”

“I didn’t assign you this,” Mr. Kelly said quietly, still studying his work.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean exclaimed. “What do you mean? You were the one who told me to take it off your desk, remember?”

“Take it off my—oh,” Mr. Kelly gasped. “Oh my... Dean, these last two equations—can you… Can you solve them?”

“If I had the time,” Dean shrugged sullenly. “I just—I didn’t know all of the terms, so I read this mathematics dictionary, and that took a whole day. And then I had to do Mrs. Henderson’s essay on Mesopotamian trade and its influence on modern culture. Then Miss Naomi assigned us A Farewell to Arms. And Sammy burnt all of the rice, so I had to make another batch and—”

“That’s okay,” Mr. Kelly said hurriedly. “Here. Finish these last two questions and bring them back to me when you’re ready.”

“What?” Dean frowned. “But I need a grade!”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“But I don’t want to fail,” Dean insisted.

“Dean,” Mr. Kelly said firmly. “Do you know what these questions are?”

“Well, I thought they were my homework assignment,” Dean snapped.

“This is a list of unproved problems in the mathematical world. Most of these have been unproven for decades, and you solved them in six days. Mathematicians have spent their whole lives trying to solve just one of these problems and you did them all in under a week! So take your time, solve the last two equations, and don’t worry about your grade.”

“Oh,” Dean said, shocked. “So I’m not—?”

“In trouble?”

Stupid?

“Dean, you did very well,” Mr. Kelly beamed. “My student! Solved the Goldbach Conjecture! My dear boy, I could kiss you! Go back to your seat and try to finish those two equations.”

“Okay,” Dean said, still feeling out of it. “Should I finish today’s assignment first?”

“Nope. Don’t worry about that. Just…Do your thing.”

Dean walked to his desk as if in a dream. He wasn’t going to get expelled. He still had more time. He wasn’t stupid.

“Dude, did you really confuse the Goldbach Conjecture with a homework assignment?” Charlie whispered to him, leaning across her desk.

“I didn’t know!” Dean whispered back. “I can’t believe it either.”

Anna scoffed. “Dude, don’t even. Everyone knows you’re, like, stupidly smart.”

“Shut up,” Dean grinned. He glanced down at his work and smiled. This was going to be a piece of cake.

 

Dean was in a much better mood by the time football practice started. Coach Turner liked having the class during the last hour, that way they could always just crossover into after-school time, without having to go back inside the building.

Dean was in the locker rooms, changing into his grays—just the bottoms, no shoulder pads—when Benny found him.

“How was class, brother?” he asked. “The teacher give you a hard time?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “He gave me more time.”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Benny grinned. “Man, I wish Mr. Roman were like that.”

“Lafitte! Winchester! This isn’t gossip time! Get your asses into the meeting room!”

“What’s with him?” Dean muttered, pulling on the green practice jersey that marked him as a quarterback. Green jerseys were non-contacts, to show the other players not to go too hard on them during practice to avoid any injuries. White jerseys were offense and black jerseys were defense.

“It’s the first district game this Friday,” Benny reminded him. “We’re playing against Stephenson High.”

Dean had forgotten all about the game. If they wanted to even enter the run for the State Final, they had to win at least nine out of the twelve district games. Otherwise, they would be sent home packing without even setting foot in the playoffs. And since the last time Kripke had won a State game was when Coach Turner himself was a student, the old teacher took it pretty seriously.

“Alright, listen here boys,” Coach Turner said once all of the players were gathered inside the meeting room. “We’re against Stephenson this Friday. Now, we’ve beaten them before, but Coach Swanson just pulled a sophomore up into varsity, and the boy is fast. Dean, he’s a hell of a sacker, so watch your back, boy. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you from passing the ball.”

“Yes, Coach,” Dean nodded.

“Everyone knows we’re a running team. Dean has a hell of a pivoting point, and Victor runs like nobody’s business. With Stephenson, it’s not gonna be a problem. But if we win this game, we’re going against St. Patrick’s next. And we’re not gonna win if we’re a one-hit wonder. Dean, you’re gonna start hitting the pitching field every morning, you hear me boy? If you’re not in a play, I want you throwing. I already know you can run like a snot-nosed boy fleeing his mama, but that arm of yours needs more strength.”

“Yes, Coach,” Dean nodded.

“And Benny. Boy, you could stop a freight train if you wanted to, but frankly, you suck at catching the ball. So I’m gonna move you to linebacker.”

“Who you’re gonna put as wide receiver?” Benny asked curiously.

“Jerry is gonna have to step up to the plate,” Coach Tuner shrugged.

“But Coach, Jerry sucks!” Ryan yelled.

“Hey, I do not!” Jerry exclaimed. “Coach, I can do this!”

“You better, boy. Or else we’re not even gonna make it to quarter-finals. Now, hit the field!”

“Let’s go!” Dean yelled, easily taking his place as leader of the team. Dean had a way of turning up the hype, and this was no exception. He was the last one to step out of the lockers, and he was so deep in the zone, he only noticed the dark-haired boy when Benny pointed him out.

“Who the hell is he?”

Dean glanced at the sidelines and cursed. There was no way he could confuse that tan trench coat. What the hell did he want now?

“Just give me a minute,” Dean muttered.

“Hurry up!”

Dean nodded and jogged up to Castiel, being careful to keep his cleats from slipping on the black track. “Hey Cas. What did you want?”

Castiel looked up at him, mouth slightly open and forehead pulled down in a frown. “Castiel,” he finally said.

“Yeah, dude, that’s your name,” Dean said, sighing. “Call me if you ever forget it again, alright?”

“You called me Cas,” Castiel said, still seemingly confused.

“It’s a nickname,” Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s my thing. Samuel into Sam. Benjamin into Benny. Castiel into Cas.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, and looked down at the ground.

Dean stared at him, waiting for the conversation to continue, before he finally gave up. “What is it? Dude, just tell me what you want.”

“My book,” Castiel said, still not meeting Dean’s eyes. “You still have my book.”

It took a moment for Dean to understand what Cas was talking about. “You mean the dictionary? It’s in my locker. I’ll give it back later, alright?”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded, but didn’t move.

“Winchester! What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry, Coach!” Dean yelled back. “Later, ‘kay?” he said to Castiel, already running back towards the field.

He was only able to hear a soft “Okay,” but he was already too far away to answer back.


	5. Golden Opportunities

 

Dean turned in the last two problems the next morning before school, much to the joy of Mr. Kelly.

“I went over your work five times! Found no errors!” Mr. Kelly told him excitedly. “With your permission, I would like to send them to the board members of the IMU so they can verify your work. If they find no errors, you could get published! Imagine Dean, your name in every magazine and newspaper in the world! Dean Winchester: Mathematical Genius!”

“Sounds good, Mr. Kelly,” Dean laughed. “Do whatever you want.”

“You’re a good man, Dean,” Mr. Kelly beamed. “Alright, I don’t wanna keep you. I know you’re training hard for your game this Friday. Against Stephenson High, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean nodded. “First district game of the season.”

“Never understood football much,” Mr. Kelly sniffed. “But I might give it a try. Just to see if you’re as much a genius on the field as in the classroom.”

“Well, let me know if you plan to go,” Dean grinned. “I’ll get you a free ticket.”

“Will do, Dean,” Mr. Kelly smiled. “Now, go.”

Okay, so Mr. Kelly was pretty awesome, once you got to know him. Dean never thought he would enjoy the company of a teacher, but it seemed that when you behaved, they treated you pretty nicely. Who knew?

He had arrived two hours early to school to use the pitching fields. Sam didn’t mind, since Dean had promised him complete access to the Galilei library.

Dean had taken a couple of footballs out of Coach’s office to practice his throw. He had always been better at running than at throwing, but since he was the only one in the team that could throw a ball with aim, Coach Turner had made him the quarterback.

Dean had never paid much attention to how his thought process worked when throwing a ball. There wasn’t anything weird in calculating the trajectory curve of the ball, taking into account the speed and strength of the wind, gravity, the angle of the throw…stuff like that. All quarterbacks did it, right? Now, he couldn’t help but think it was just him.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Holy fuck!” Dean yelled, jumping. “Don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel frowned. “I thought you heard me come in.”

“Well, I didn’t. You have a bad habit of just appearing out of nowhere,” Dean muttered. “And yes, I have your book. I’ll give it to you right after I’m done.”

“I didn’t come here for that,” Castiel said, and did Dean detect a hint of petulance in his voice? It was only then that Dean realized Castiel was dressed in black running shorts and a plain white t-shirt. And Jesus, was he hot. That trench coat did him no favors.

Castiel had a runner’s body, all lean muscles and strong thighs. He wasn’t as small as the trench coat made him look, and it made Dean realize that Cas was only a couple of inches shorter than him, just a bit slimmer than he was. His shoulders were wide, his hips narrow, and his legs long. All in all, he was a pretty good-looking dude. Not that Dean paid attention to stuff like that.

Seriously.

“You run?” Dean wondered aloud.

“It’s a good way to keep in shape,” Castiel nodded. “Though it is not as entertaining as a team sport.”

Dean frowned, glancing down at his football. He could always practice later. He had a lot of free time during practice, since Coach Turner didn’t like him running the plays until the other players were perfect at it just so he wouldn’t get hurt.

“Hey, how about this: I run with you, then you help me practice my arm,” Dean told Cas. “How’s that sound?”

Castiel blinked, doing the whole staring quietly for a whole minute thing again. Dean waited it out, used to the boy’s weird habit by now. “That sounds wonderful,” Castiel finally answered in a grave voice.

Dean laughed at the tone of his voice and threw the football into the bag with the others. “Alright, let me stretch for a bit.”

Running with Castiel was fun. The boy had a bit of a competitive streak, and when he discovered Dean was just as fast as he was, he gave it his all to beat him. They were pretty winded after they’d run a couple of miles, so they rested for a few minutes before going back to throwing balls.

Castiel was pretty good at it, once Dean explained what a wide receiver did. He also understood projectile motion, because he seemed to be able to tell where Dean was going to throw the ball just by Dean’s stance. He only missed two, and that was because his hands were pretty sweaty after running four miles.

“Alright, let’s hit the showers,” Dean finally said after an hour and a half of work. “I want to get some breakfast at the cafeteria before I get to class.”

“This was fun,” Castiel said, jogging to catch up with him. “Will we be doing it again?”

“I gotta practice every day until I get good enough to do it in my sleep,” Dean groaned. “You want any part of that?”

“It was fun,” Castiel repeated, and looked up at Dean with the most blinding smile he ever seen. He froze under the strength of it, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice. “I will see you tomorrow!” he said, still beaming, and ran ahead.

Oh god. Dean was so fucked.

 

He tried to think of something other than Castiel. He didn’t like guys. Honest. So yeah, sometimes he noticed a nice ass, regardless of gender. But that was just his appreciation for nice asses, right?

Dean decided that was a good excuse as any, so he left it alone. Just because he thought Cas was hot didn’t mean he had to act on it. He thought Jo was hot, and he never hit on her. Charlie was hot, as was Benny. It didn’t mean anything.

His friends noticed his mood immediately, but Dean blamed it on his classes.

“Are you still going to be able to go my party tonight?” Jo asked worriedly. Jo’s pre-game parties were famous. The girl’s mother owned a bar, for fuck’s sake.

“I am not missing it for the world,” Dean assured her. “Can I invite a couple of friends?”

“From Galilei?” Victor frowned. “Are you sure they would want to come?”

“Just because they’re smart doesn’t mean they’re boring,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Okay, then,” Jo shrugged. “It’ll be cool to meet your new friends.”

“And your new crush,” Benny added, smirking.

“What?” Dean gasped, unable to fight the blush on his face. Did they know? How the hell did they know? They didn’t even know Cas… Not that he had a crush on Cas.

“Dude, you were daydreaming,” Benny rolled his eyes. “You only do that when you’re forming up a plan to ask somebody out. Is it Cassie?”

“I, uh, yeah,” Dean lied quickly. “Still trying to bag Cassie.”

“She’ll never go out with you,” Jo rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Dean, but you’re a player. And Cassie has way too high self-esteem.”

“Thanks, Jo,” Dean muttered. “I’ll see you guys tonight.”

“Don’t be late!”

Dean waved goodbye and hurried to class. He wanted to invite Charlie and Anna to Jo’s party. He wanted to introduce them to his friends. He had a feeling they would love each other. It totally had nothing to do with the fact that Anna was Cas’ twin sister and that the redhead was sure to invite her brother too. Nothing at all.

“A party?” Charlie grinned. “Dean, are you inviting us out on a date? Ooh, I knew you liked me.”

“Shut up,” Dean smirked. “So, are you guys coming?”

“I wish,” Anna sighed. “Mom doesn’t let me go out. She thinks there’s an axe murderer behind every corner, a rapist in every darkened alley.”

“Invite your brother,” Charlie shrugged. “Moms always go for the older, protective brother card.”

“Are you kidding? Like Mom will let her golden boy out of her sight. Castiel is locked up tighter than I am. And he’s such a stickler for the rules… Nah, just count me out.”

“Just try,” Dean said. “If she says no, we’ll think of something else.”

“Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen,” Anna shrugged.

“Sneak out if you have to,” Dean said. “You can even hide at my house. Here’s my address.” Dean grabbed a piece of paper and quickly scrawled his address.

“Dean, Miss Rosen would like to see you in her office,” Mr. Kelly called out. “Take your bag. It might take a while.”

“Do you know what she wants, sir?” Dean asked curiously.

“Don’t worry, Dean. You’re not in trouble.”

“Pick me up at eight,” Charlie whispered to him as he gathered his things.

Miss Rosen was waiting with another student when he stepped in. Dean recognized the blond-haired guy as one of Cassie’s friends. When he walked in, the boy glared at him.

“I’ll come back later, Miss Rosen,” he told the counselor, still staring daggers at Dean. “When we can talk in private.”

“Yes, James,” Miss Rosen smiled. “And remember, count to ten.”

James nodded, grabbed his bag from the floor, and stepped out, making sure to bump shoulders with Dean as he did so. What the hell was his problem?

“Dean, it’s so nice to see you!” Miss Rosen exclaimed, distracting Dean.

“What? Oh, yes. Hi, Miss Rosen,” Dean answered politely. “Mr. Kelly said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, yes. Sit down,” Miss Rosen said, motioning to the vacated seat. “I’ve heard what happened with Mr. Kelly. I told you, Dean, you’re doing greatt!”

“Yes. I have to thank you, Miss Rosen. You really helped me out,” Dean smiled.

“Well, I have more good news,” Miss Rosen smiled. “Every year, Galilei enters the Annual Eisenhower Decathlon. It is a very competitive academic competition open to only a few selected schools throughout the U.S. Galilei is very lucky to have been invited once again. The school chooses ten students, each of them highly proficient in a different skill, and forms the team that will participate in this competition. And you, Dean, have been chosen as one of the members!”

“Wait, me?” Dean gasped. “Why?”

Miss Rosen blinked, surprised. “Why? Dean, please don’t tell me you’re doubting your intelligence again? You are one of Galilei’s most prized students!”

“But Miss Rosen, I already have football. And this year, I’m sure we can make it to State! Reese Jefferson graduated last year, and he was our biggest threat! Without him, North Wessington won’t even make it to quarter-finals.”

“Dean, you don’t have to worry,” Miss Rosen smiled. “The Decathlon only has four physical competitive rounds, which fall on dates nowhere near your games. All of the other elimination rounds are done through group projects. I’m sure Miss Naomi can work something out with you so you don’t miss a day of practice, but can still attend group meetings.”

Dean frowned. He had practice every day, except on weekends and, of course, game day. His mornings were booked with throwing practice, and every other time slot was filled trying to complete homework. He had quit the Roadhouse, which cleared his schedule up a bit, but if he took this on, too, then he wouldn’t have time to take care of Sam. Dean would only be available one day a week, and that was a stretch.

“Miss Rosen, I don’t have any free days. I have practice every weekday, and when I get home at five, I have to make Sam dinner, help him out with his homework, then complete my own. Any homework that I don’t complete during the weekday, I finish on the weekend. I don’t think it’s fair for me to only put minimal effort into this competition, and take a spot someone else would appreciate more.”

“I understand,” Miss Rosen said sadly. “I will talk to Miss Naomi. Dean, I understand this will fill your schedule, leave you no time to yourself. I also understand you don’t have a parent figure to help you out with your brother. The only reason I haven’t reported it to Child Services is because I’m sure you would never forgive me for it, and because I can see that you take care of yourself and your brother better than anyone else would. But this is a golden opportunity, Dean. It may not fall on your lap again, and I would hate for you to lose it. Isn’t there anybody that could help you take care of Sam?”

There was Bobby. And Ellen. He was sure either adult would be more than happy to take Sam on a couple of afternoons. He was even sure that if he asked, Coach Turner would give him a free day to attend the meetings. But that wasn’t fair to his teammates, who would be giving their hundred percent to win State. And Dean was their Captain. He couldn’t put in less effort than them.

Bobby and Ellen had jobs to take care of. Dean wasn’t about to bother them when he was perfectly capable of taking care of Sam. He was even sure Sam would argue that he was old enough to stay by himself in the afternoons, but Dean didn’t want to risk John coming home when Sam was alone.

“There isn’t anybody,” Dean said. “Like I’ve said before, I have very little time. If Miss Naomi wants, I will be on the team, but I can only put in half the effort that everyone else would.”

Miss Rosen sighed. “I will talk to Miss Naomi, see what we can do. Thank you, Dean. You can go back to class.”

Dean stood up. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. And thank you, uh, you know. About Sam.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Miss Rosen smiled. “You’re a good kid. I’m happy to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The IMU is the International Mathematical Union. They are the ones who give out the Fields Medal, officially known as the International Medal for Outstanding Discoveries in Mathematics, which is kind of like the equivalent of a Nobel Prize


	6. Discrepancies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post!

 

Dean didn’t tell Sam about the Decathlon. He was sure his little brother would yell at him for missing out on such a good opportunity, and he honestly didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he played nice and dropped him off at his friend Jess’ house.

After that, he drove to Charlie’s house.

“Nice house,” Dean commented when the redhead climbed into the passenger seat. Charlie’s door was circular, which was already weird on its own, but it seemed to sink down into the ground as well.

“My mom loves the Hobbit,” Charlie shrugged. “Drive to Anna’s. We’re picking her up.”

“Her mom said yes?”

“I don’t think so,” Charlie frowned. “She said to park a street away and text her when we were there. I think she’s sneaking out.”

“Good for her,” Dean grinned.

Anna, unsurprisingly, lived in Pine Hills, a gated community for the rich. The night guard, however, was a slightly overweight man with a sweaty face and greedy eyes. Dean slipped him a twenty, and the man opened the gates.

Anna lived in a cul-de-sac, with her house placed snugly in the middle of the curve. Dean parked at the street corner, and Charlie texted her.

“There. She said she’s coming,” Charlie said.

“Have you met her mom?”

“Yeah. So have you. It’s Miss Naomi, man,” Charlie laughed.

“Miss Naomi?” Dean gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me? But I thought her last name was Collins or some shit.”

“She got her maiden name back when they divorced,” Charlie shrugged. “Their dad left when they were seven, right after the divorce.”

“Man, that sucks,” Dean murmured.

“There she is!” Charlie exclaimed, pointing ahead. “Is that… Fuck, is that Castiel?”

“Where?” Dean asked, squinting. It was hard to see in the dark, but sure enough, there were two figures approaching his car. As they got closer, Dean was able to make out Anna dressed in tight jeans, knee-high boots, and a red chiffon hem top. Behind her, Cas was wearing black jeans, and a gray oxford shirt underneath a black and purple plaid sweater vest.

Dean kept his eyes straight ahead, even when Castiel and Anna climbed into the back of his car.

“Hey, Castiel,” Charlie greeted warmly. “Didn’t expect you to come.”

“I know, right?” Ann said before Castiel could speak. “He even came up with the plan to sneak out!”

“You did?” Dean asked, surprised, and glanced at Castiel through the rearview mirror. Blue eyes were staring back at him.

“Today is the day of our parent’s divorce. Mother always drinks herself to sleep,” Castiel replied. “It was just a matter of waiting for the right time to climb down the tree by my window.”

“Oh.”

“Well, let’s go!” Anna exclaimed happily. “It’s not every day that Castiel decides to do something daring. Let’s celebrate with some beers!”

“We’re not old enough to drink,” Castiel cut in, but didn’t stop Dean from putting the car into drive.

“Cassie, it’s a party,” Anna rolled her eyes. “That’s what people do.”

“Don’t worry, Cas,” Dean said. “There’s not going to be a lot of beer. None of the football players can drink, since we have the game tomorrow. You can join the sober group.”

“Well, I am going to get wasted!” Charlie grinned. “Now, let’s put some good music on this radio.”

“Nuh uh,” Dean tsked. “Car rules, people. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Besides, AC/DC always rocks.”

Charlie and Anna grumbled, but Dean didn’t back off. The drive to the Roadhouse was filled with excited chatter and the kickass sound of Back in Black and Thunderstruck.

When Dean glanced back at Castiel, he saw him looking out of the window thoughtfully, head nodding softly to the beat. It was not adorable, it was not cute, and Dean certainly didn’t almost run over a cat looking at him.

Jo’s party was in full swing when they arrived. Ellen had left to meet with her supplier and wouldn’t be back until Friday afternoon. She had closed the bar, but since Jo lived on the second floor, the party had extended down to the bar.

“Jo lives in a bar?” Charlie gasped. “This girl is awesome!”

“Come on,” Dean grinned. “The real fun is upstairs. Ellen keeps all of her good liquor locked in the attic.”

The bar was full when they walked in. Almost the whole school had come, and even some students from other schools had shown up. Jo’s parties weren’t legendary for nothing.

He saw Benny making out with Andrea Kormos, the Captain of the Cheer Squad. Victor was half-naked in a group of people, playing cards. And Jo was on top of her kitchen table, singing loudly and off-key to REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling”.

“That song sucks!” Dean shouted, grinning.

“Do not blaspheme in this house, Dean Winchester!” Jo yelled. “ _And even as I wander, I’m keeping you in sight! You’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s nigh_ t—sing with me, Winchester!— _...than I ever thought I might_!”

“ _And I can’t fight this feeling anymore!_ ” Dean sung along. Jo laughed and extended an arm, helping him climb the table. “ _I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for. And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door. Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore!_ ”

Jo burst into giggles at the last notes and everybody erupted in cheers.

“I can’t believe you’re not even drunk,” Dean rolled his eyes, helping Jo down on the floor.

“Only good-for-nothing, menace to society, disappointing failures drink to have fun,” Jo said.

“Is that what Ellen is calling them now?”

“I swear, that woman owns a bar and expects me not to drink?” Jo rolled her eyes. “She drinks every night! And so does Bobby! That doesn’t keep her from sticking her tongue down his throat.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about Bobby’s tongue,” Dean gagged.

“Dean, that was awesome!” Charlie exclaimed, appearing in his line of vision suddenly. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“He was a choirboy,” Jo giggled.

“Shut up, Harvelle. You got kicked out,” Dean shot back. “These are Anna, Charlie, and Cas. They’re friends from Galilei.”

“So you’re all geniuses, like Dean?” Jo asked excitedly.

“Totally,” Charlie grinned. “He copies from me all the time.”

“Shut up, Miss I-don’t-know-what-viruses-can-achieve-neoplastic-transformation.”

“Tumor viruses,” Castiel said, frowning at Charlie. “You didn’t know this?”

“Hey, my thing is computers,” Charlie snapped. “Let’s see any of you hack into the FBI’s main frame in less than two hours.”

“Touché,” Dean grinned.

“Hey, put down the vase!” Jo suddenly yelled, pointing to two guys throwing one of Ellen’s vases back and forth. “Don’t run away from me! Hey! You guys enjoy yourselves. I have a couple of freshmen to kill,” Jo growled, shoving her sleeves up to her elbows.

“She’s so hot,” Charlie sighed, watching Jo leave. “Do you know if she bats for my team?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Dean frowned. “I’ve never seen her date anybody. She’s too scary.”

“If you guys excuse me, I have a lady to woo,” Charlie grinned.

“C’mon, Cassie. Let’s see how you handle your alcohol,” Anna grinned, and dragged Castiel away.

Dean joined a couple of his team mates on the living room. Benny had separated from Andrea long enough to engage Jerry in an argument about their toughest opponents. Victor was sitting by himself on the recliner, but only because no one wanted to be close to a guy only wearing boxers.

“Strip poker?” Dean asked him knowingly.

“Cheerleaders aren’t supposed to be good at poker,” Victor complained.

“Dude, did you forget who’s co-captain? Jo’s beaten me so many times at poker, I don’t even try anymore,” Dean said.

“You don’t happen to have an extra pair of pants?” Victor asked.

“Sorry, man. Come prepared next time,” Dean shrugged.

A couple more players joined them, and soon the entire varsity team had taken over Jo’s living room. Dean kicked a freshman from the loveseat so he could stretch his legs, and glared at anyone that dared complain. Benny, Victor, Jerry, Bryan, and a couple of others were discussing the new plays Coach Turner had set for the upcoming game.

“I’m telling you, I can catch the ball!” Jerry yelled for the hundredth time. “Every other play is a run. They’re going to be able to read us in their sleep.”

“You catch three out of every ten,” Benny snapped. “And Dean can’t keep yelling the name of the play at you. You have to memorize them!”

“Look, we just have to keep the linebackers from sacking Dean, and we’re good,” Victor added. He had found an old pair of jeans in one of Jo’s rooms. Dean didn’t have the heart to tell him he was probably wearing one of Bobby’s old pairs. “Nobody’s fast enough to catch me.”

“Hey, kid, move it. This is private business.”

Dean glanced at the freshman that had spoken, and saw him pushing Castiel away.

“I just need to speak—”

“I said move it.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Dean snapped. “He’s with me.” He sat up so that Cas could sit next to him. “Were you drinking?” Dean asked, leaning in close to sniff at him.

“Anna seemed keen on seeing my reaction to alcohol,” Castiel nodded. “She seems to have forgotten we have wine with our dinner every night.”

“Are you having fun?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know anyone," Castiel frowned. “But I supposed this is better than sitting in my room, finishing next week’s homework.”

“Dude, what a nerd,” Jerry laughed.

“Hey, Jerry, shut the fuck up,” Dean snapped, throwing him one of the couch’s cushions. “At least Cas can catch a fucking ball.”

“Ooh,” Benny laughed. “Is he one of them Galilei kids?”

“Yep,” Dean nodded. “Cas has math with me. He helped me out with Mr. Kelly’s assignment, remember?”

“You did all of the work, Dean. I simply lent you a book,” Castiel said. “I couldn’t hope to begin to understand how you were able to solve those problems.”

“Geez, Cas, you flatter me,” Dean joked, but tried to hide a blush. Castiel’s monotone voice was surprisingly honest once you added in the wide, blue eyes.

“Can we go back to the play now?” Bryan snapped. “We can all ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at Dean’s new friend later.”

“Coach already set the plays,” Victor shrugged. “Look, Stephenson is going for the blitz. They’re not fast enough to catch me, and their offensive line isn’t good enough to stop Benny or Seth.”

“So what? Is this going to be a game of who can sack the quarterback the most?” Jerry growled

“We just need to get in at least one touchdown,” Benny shrugged. “Unless you learn how to catch the ball, we won’t get far.”

“Why don’t you put the wide receiver with the left tackle?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Dude, if we start talking about the Pythagorean Theorem or something, then you can comment,” Jerry snapped. “This is football.”

“You learn about the Pythagorean Theorem in sixth grade, idiot,” Dean snapped. “And I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“If he doesn’t know shit about football, he shouldn’t talk about it!” Jerry snapped back.

“We can’t put Jerry with Jackson on left tackle because Dean is right handed,” Benny explained calmly to Castiel. “Jackson is on the left to cover Dean’s blind side. You can’t have the wide receiver on the quarterback’s blind side.”

“I’m not stupid,” Castiel snapped, surprising them all. “If you put the strong tackle on his left, then the linebacker will think Dean will throw with his right and rush Dean’s left blind side. But since Dean can throw with his left hand, too, that will leave the linebacker in Dean’s line of vision. He would be too close to Dean to block the wide receiver. And if Jackson makes a ‘mistake’ and lets the middle linebacker through, that leaves him open to block the cornerback and let Jerry go through for a touchdown.”

“Only a little problem with that play,” Jerry scorned. “Dean can’t throw with his left.”

“He’s thrown with his left plenty of times with me,” Castiel huffed.

“That’s because you can catch, Cas,” Dean laughed. “Jerry can barely catch it when I throw with my right.”

“He’s got you there, brother,” Benny grinned, patting Jerry on the back. “It’s a good play. If only we had a good receiver.”

“Fuck all of you,” Jerry snapped. “I’m good.”

“Yeah, as a guard. I have no idea why Coach put you as a wide receiver.”

“When did you learn football?” Dean whispered to Castiel.

Castiel avoided his eyes. “A picked up a book a long time ago,” he shrugged.

Was Cas blushing? Why the hell was he blushing? And why was he avoiding Dean’s eyes?

Before Dean could question him anymore, Jo threw open the front door, eyes wide and wild.

“They’re egging my house!” she yelled.

“What?”

“Them fucking Jefferson High kids are egging my fucking house!” Jo yelled.

Dean ran out, closely followed by Cas, Victor, and Benny. The bar had emptied out a bit, since almost everybody was outside, looking at the damage.

The entire front wall was covered in eggs and flour. One of the windows had cracked, and some of the eggs—rotten, by the smell—had gotten inside.

The sound of screeching wheels made Dean looked up. It was fucking Alastair Masters in his obnoxious red Mustang.

“A little hello from your friends at Jefferson High,” he yelled out in his annoying, nasal voice.

“You fucker!” Jo yelled, picking up a rock to throw at them. “You’ll pay for this!”

“See you at Playoffs. If you get that far!” Azazel yelled from the passenger seat. Jo grabbed a second rock and ran to throwing distance, but Alastair hit the gas and disappeared.

“That’s it!” Jo yelled. “Party’s over. Everybody out of here. Get out!”

“Come on,” Dean muttered to Cas. “Let’s get some wet towels to clean this up.”

Everybody who didn’t want to help clean up left within minutes, which meant only Victor, Benny, Cas, Charlie, Anna, and Dean stayed behind with Jo.

“I will fucking make them pay for this,” Jo growled as she furiously scrubbed the door.

“Who were those guys?” Anna asked curiously.

“Jefferson High,” Benny muttered. “They’re like our school’s rival. Except they always win. They’ve won the State Championship four years in a row, and they’re always the ones to kick us out of the Playoffs.”

“Do they always prank you guys like this?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” Victor nodded. “We tried fighting back, but they’re too good.”

“They ruined my mom’s bar!” Jo yelled. “We’re doing something.”

“What can we do?” Dean muttered. “Everyone will know it’s us.”

“Not necessarily,” Castiel said.

“What are you talking about?” Anna frowned.

“We have at our disposal all of the necessary ingredients to make a stink bomb,” Castiel shrugged. “A simple lever mechanism, and we can make it go off without us setting foot on their school. And it would be terrible if the stink bomb happened to go off in their field, the day before a game day.”

“Dude, where are we going to get the ingredients to make a stink bomb?” Victor asked.

“Your normal Chemistry classroom has them,” Castiel shrugged.

“Yeah, but we don’t have a key to the school,” Jo rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you don’t,” Castiel grinned, holding up his school I.D.

“Oh my god, Castiel,” Anna gasped. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Cas, this is awesome!” Dean laughed, swinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “You are a genius! Okay, who’s in?”

“I am,” Jo said immediately.

“I always said you were going to make me end up in prison,” Victor muttered.

“I’m in, too,” Benny smiled.

“Guys?” Dean asked Charlie and Anna.

“Like hell I’m backing out of this,” Anna said. “I’m not being shown up by Castiel.”

“I’m in, too,” Charlie sighed.

“Alright, let’s go!”

They drove to school in Dean’s car. They parked a block away, and Charlie showed them a way to avoid being seen by the cameras.

“I’ll hack in and erase any record of you using your card,” she assured Castiel. It only took them an hour and a half to sneak in, make the bomb, and sneak back out. It was almost two in the morning by the time they reached Jefferson High.

Dean stayed back with the car running just in case they needed to make a quick getaway, and Castiel, Victor, and Jo sneaked in to set the bomb on the field. It took them about fifteen minutes, then they were rushing back.

“Let’s go!” Jo hissed. “I have a walk-through in the morning, and I want to catch some shuteye.”

“The guard at our place leaves at two,” Anna said. “There’s no way to get inside without him opening the door.”

“We are going to be in so much trouble,” Castiel groaned.

“You can stay at my house,” Jo shrugged. “My mom won’t come home until noon, and we have like three guest rooms in case any of our patrons are too drunk to drive home.”

“Can we? Oh, thank you,” Anna sighed. “We’ll just tell mom we left early in the morning for school.”

“You can all stay,” Jo said. “We can pretend we were having a study session or some shit.”

“Alright, then I’ll head back to the Roadhouse,” Dean said.

“You guys are just going to have to share,” Jo added.

“I call Benny!” Victor yelled.

“I call Anna,” Charlie quickly followed.

“I guess that leaves you and Cas,” Jo said, patting Dean on the shoulder.

Dean glanced at Cas through the rearview mirror, and Castiel sent him a wide, gummy smile. Shit. He was so dead.


	7. Creating Witty Chapter Titles Is Harder Than It Looks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot begin to tell all of you how awesome my beta's are. This story would've been a disaster without them there to help me out. They deserve all of the love in the world :D

Dean and Sam had slept over at Jo’s plenty of times, so he knew first hand that the beds were big enough for two people. But only if said people plastered themselves to each other, limbs intertwined. And like hell was he going to cuddle with Castiel.

He almost had an aneurysm when the boy took his shirt off, revealing a lean, tanned chest.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. Just give me a blanket,” Dean told him, avoiding direct eye contact.

“The bed is big enough for both of us,” Castiel frowned. “There’s no need for—”

“Dude, I’m sleeping on the floor,” Dean repeated firmly.

Castiel’s frown deepened, and Dean hoped he wouldn’t question his motives. Dean didn’t want to look into it too deeply either. Once he voiced them out loud, there was no way he would be able to deny them. And he did not need a sexuality crisis right now. He was too busy.

Thankfully, Castiel simply handed him a blanket and a pillow. It took a while, but Dean finally got comfortable enough on the floor to start nodding off. Before he lost complete consciousness, Castiel spoke.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Huh?” Dean murmured sleepily.

“I said thank you,” Castiel repeated.

“What for?” Dean mumbled, fighting to stay awake.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night,” Dean sighed, letting go of the conversation. He had a feeling he wouldn’t remember it the next day.

 

Dean had almost forgotten what it was like having teachers who hated him. He was reminded the next day, when all of his teachers believed that he had slept in late completing homework and let him catch some sleep during class. Not a single one of his old teachers would’ve believed the lie. He guessed that was one of the pros of actually doing his work during class.

Victor, Jo, and Benny weren’t so lucky, and when Dean met with them during lunch, they were nodding off on the table.

“I hope Coach lets us catch some sleep before the game,” Victor murmured. “Or I’ll fall asleep on the field.”

“The game doesn’t start until seven. I’m sure he’ll let us sleep a little bit,” Benny said, always the optimist.

“I’m so sleepy that I’m hallucinating Charlie, Anna, and Cas,” Jo mumbled, staring off into the distance.

“What?” Dean said, glancing around the lunch room. He caught Anna’s eye and waved her over. The trio hurried over and sat across from him.

“Did you hear?” Charlie asked as soon as her butt hit the chair.

“Hear what?” Benny frowned.

“They closed Jefferson High for the week,” Anna said.

“What?” Victor gasped, suddenly awake. “Why?”

“Apparently, the difference between a stink bomb and a level three toxic biohazard is two extra drops of sulfur trioxide,” Castiel mumbled. “The school is sealed off until the CDC comes in.”

“Holy fuck,” Jo said, mouth gaping wide. “Holy fuck!”

“Luckily, nobody got hurt,” Charlie added. “Victor messed up the timer, so the bomb went off two hours before classes started. By the time students started coming in, the place was already sealed shut.”

“So…this means Jefferson won’t play tonight,” Benny said carefully.

“And they won’t be able to practice for a week,” Victor added. “So there’s no way they’re going to win their second district game.”

“That means, if they lose their third game, they won’t reach the Playoffs,” Jo grinned. “See, it wasn’t so bad.”

“Not so bad? I almost killed an entire school’s population!” Castiel exclaimed.

“No harm, no foul,” Dean shrugged. “Come on, Cas. You didn’t know. Nobody got hurt, and now those Jefferson kids know not to mess with us.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Charlie piped in. “And there’s absolutely no way to trace this back to us. I wiped their cameras, and there’s no record of your I.D. being swiped yesterday. We’re clean.”

“Mother was right,” Castiel mumbled, letting his head hit the table. “It starts with a simple prank, then I end up building a death ray and enslaving the entire human population with the aid of biomechanical super soldiers.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, if I ever see you making blueprints to make a death ray, I promise to put a stop to it.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“You guys are coming to the game, right?” Jo asked. “I’m going to be at the top of the pyramid!”

“We have a Decathlon meeting after school, but we’ll try and make it,” Charlie said.

“Oh, you guys are on the team?” Dean asked curiously.

“Yep. For the second year running,” Anna smiled. “Mom told us you were joining.”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged. “There are a couple of glitches we still need to fix.”

“Well, hopefully, you do get in,” Anna said. “We would definitely win with you on our team.”

“Aha,” Dean mumbled and quickly changed the topic.

All through the day, his teachers and classmates wished him good luck on the game. He hardly knew any of the students at Galilei, but everyone seemed to know his name. It was weird, especially since he thought he had lost his popularity when he left Kripke.

“Alright, boys, this is game day,” Coach Turner said after school, pacing the floor nervously. He had given Benny and Victor a little time to sleep, but had woken them up an hour before the game for his famous pregame speech. They would then go through a walk-through of the plays, Dean would meet with the Captain from Stephenson for the coin flip, and then the game would start.

“We’ve been practicing non-stop for a week for this. This game marks the pace for the rest of the season. We win this, and we go to the Playoffs. We lose, and your spirits die and we end up dropping out by the third game,” Coach Turner said.

“Always the optimist,” Benny muttered.

“Shut up, Lafitte,” Coach Turner snapped. “Unless you want to run a mile?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright. Dean, how’s your arm?”

“Good, Coach,” Dean said.

“Jerry, you still fumble the ball more than a stick of butter. But you’re the best out of all of the guys who tried out, so I’m keeping you there. Victor, you’re going to be our main scorer. If you get too tired, we’ll pull up Stevie or Dean will run it. Everyone memorized their plays?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, alright,” the Coach said nervously. “I think we’re good.”

“Coach, we’re going to do fine,” Dean assured him. “Stephenson is not that good.”

“I’m not worried about Stephenson, boy,” Coach Turner snapped. “We have St. Patrick’s after this game. They have a much better team, and we won’t be able to bullshit our way through with runs and sneak plays. So you guys better pull your heads out of your asses and win this game, you hear? If we lose or win by anything less than two touchdowns, we will be running suicide drills after every practice for the next month. Now, get out on that field!”

“Coach is going to kill us!” Noah whispered to Dean as he jogged beside him.

“I know,” Dean told the cornerback. “So let’s win this game.”

The field was half full when they hit the field for pregame. During the half hour of walk-through, the stadium was filled to the brim. The left side was the home side, so it was painted in colors of red and white. On the right, blue and gold dominated.

Dean tried to look for Charlie, Anna, and Castiel, but didn’t see any of them. He caught Jo’s eye from the sidelines, but the girl simply shrugged and did a cartwheel.

The Coach yelled at them to go back inside and change into their jerseys, and when they walked back out, the cheerleaders were waiting to flank them during the singing of the anthem.

Dean lost the coin flip, so they started on defense. Luckily, kickoff went well and they started on their sixty yard line.

Stephenson wasn’t a very challenging team. Their offense was good, but Kripke’s was better. And their defense only had a couple of good players. They didn’t score a touchdown until the second quarter, but they missed the extra point. Coach Turner was pissed.

“How hard is it to get the ball through the goal?” He yelled at the poor sophomore kicker. “You do it all the time in soccer!”

Stephenson scored a touchdown during the third quarter, and their kick was good, placing them a point higher than Kripke.

“Run the ball!” Coach Turner yelled at Dean. “Run it!”

But Stephenson knew all of their plays. All they did was run the ball. If it wasn’t Victor, then Dean ran it. But it was hard when number twenty-four, the new middle linebacker, sacked Dean at every turn.

“Cover my blind side!” Dean yelled at Jackson, grabbing his face mask and pulling him down. “I’m getting sacked at every fucking turn!”

“I’m trying to cover the guard end! Tell Kyle to cover his fucking man!”

“We’re getting killed out here,” Benny groaned. “We need to score at least one more touch down. We won’t get out of suicide drills, but if we lose, Coach will kill us.”

“He already cussed out the ref,” Jerry added. “Another tantrum, and we disqualify.”

“Alright,” Dean frowned. “We’re passing the ball.”

“Dean, we can’t—”

“Fuck, yes!” Jerry grinned.

“We’re running Castiel’s play,” Dean added.

“Dean, are you fucking kidding me?” Victor snapped. “Coach will kill us if we run anything outside of his playbook!”

“It’s going to be worse if we lose the fucking game!” Dean snapped. “We have ten seconds left on time out. Are you guys with me?”

There was some hesitation, but when Benny nodded, the rest followed.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Victor muttered.

Benny ran back to the sidelines, since he wasn’t on this play. Victor lined up behind Dean, faking a run, and Jerry lined up next to Jackson. Liam, the tight end, lined up on Dean’s right, making it seem as if Dean was going to pass to him. Stephenson had already seen how much Jerry sucked on passes, so number twenty-four lined on the left, ready to tackle Dean’s blind side.

“What are you doing?” Coach Turner yelled when Dean called the play. “Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

Dean ignored him and nodded at Howard, who was in charge of snapping the ball. When the whistle blew, Dean called the play and Howard snapped the ball. Dean caught it, stepping back as Victor ran ahead and faked a run. Number twenty-four wasn’t fooled, and rushed past Jackson to tackle Dean.

But Dean turned to his left. Number twenty-four was bigger, but Dean was faster and was easily able to evade him. He looked up, quickly finding Jerry well past the ten yard line. He threw the ball with his left, but he knew even before it was halfway across the field that Jerry wasn’t going to catch it.

Jerry fumbled. The ball hit the ground, and immediately, the cornerback rushed to grab it.

“Fumble!” Dean yelled. “Fumble!”

Jerry blocked the cornerback, and Dean felt his body relax as Liam caught the fumble. He ran the field, easily evaded the safeties, and scored the touchdown.

“Dean!” Coach Turner yelled over the sound of cheering fans. “Dean, get over here!”

“Yes, Coach?” Dean asked, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“What the fuck was that? You can’t throw with your left, boy!” Coach Turner yelled. “That was fucking luck! We don’t deal with luck, do you hear me? Now, you’re going to run the plays I set, or you’re off the fucking team!”

“Yes, Coach,” Dean nodded.

“Now get out it. We’re going to run for two extra points,” Coach Turner ordered. Then run was good, and they were able to score two extra points.

They were winning by a touchdown, so Coach called in the defensive plays. No more passes, no more runs…they just had to run the clock and keep Stephenson from scoring. The rest of the game was boring, and Dean hardly played at all. Defense was doing all of the work, fighting to keep Stephenson from scoring.

The game ended with a score of seven to fourteen, with the win going to Kripke. The atmosphere in the locker rooms, whoever, was not one of celebration. Every one of them knew that their victory was the result of a lucky shot, not skill. If Liam hadn’t caught the ball, they would have lost their first game.

“I want you all dressed and on the field by six o’clock,  Monday morning, ready to work,” Coach Turner ordered. “Now, get out of here.”

Dean grabbed his bag from his locker and hurried out, closely followed by Benny and Victor.

“That was horrible,” Benny groaned. “I can’t believe Jerry fumbled.”

“I don’t know why Coach has him as wide receiver. He’s a guard end, for heaven’s sake,” Victor muttered.

“Other than Benny, he’s the only one that can catch,” Dean shrugged. “And we need Benny on defense. If it weren’t for him, we would’ve been massacred.”

“We’re not going to make it very far, are we?” Benny mumbled.

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and sorry for the late update. Totally forgot it was Saturday yesterday. My bad


	8. Tryouts

Dean was in a horrible mood the next day. Sam knew better than to bother him, and hadn’t shown his face in Dean’s room all morning.

He didn’t feel like doing his work, didn’t feel like talking to anybody. He loved football, always had. He loved the teamwork, the adrenaline rush he got during every game, the satisfaction that he got after completing a particularly grueling drill. He didn’t think it was weird to feel a little depressed at the thought that all of his hard work was for nothing.

“Dean?”

“Go away,” Dean growled.

“Dean, you have a visitor,” Sam went on, ignoring him.

“Benny, I don’t want to talk to you,” Dean sighed. He had ten missed calls from Victor, Jo, and Benny, and knew it had been a matter of time before one of them showed up at his house.

“Dean, it’s Castiel,” an unexpected voice called out, and Dean quickly sat up on his bed.

Castiel? Fuck, what the hell was Castiel doing in his house? And how did he even know where Dean lived? Dean’s room was a pigsty! He couldn’t let Castiel see him wallowing in pity on a bed full of dirty clothes and empty boxes of pizza.

“I’m coming!” Dean yelled, rushing to pick up the dirty clothes from his bed and floor. “Give me a second.”

“Dean, stop wasting time and open the door!” Sam yelled. “Don’t be rude.”

Dean pushed the empty pizza boxes under his bed, threw the rest of his dirty clothes inside his closet, and opened a window to air out the room. He hurried to open the door before Castiel got offended and left.

“Cas,” Dean greeted, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath. “What’s up?”

“The judges for this year’s Decathlon are in my house, speaking to Mother. She ordered me to find another place to do my homework. I thought maybe we could work together,” Castiel said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said awkwardly. “Come on in.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” Sam said.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, and closed the door softly behind him. He stared at the door for a moment, took in a deep breath, then turned around to stare at Cas.

Castiel had taken a seat on the edge of his bed. His back was ramrod straight, and he kept looking around as if trying to memorize the layout of the room. His books had been neatly placed on Dean’s bedside table.

“I’m sorry if I’m imposing,” Castiel said quietly. “Anna gave me your address when I thought it would be good for us to study together.”

“That’s, um, yeah,” Dean shrugged, and scratched the back of his neck. “You can get more comfortable, if you want. Take of your shoes, lean back. Whatever.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said. “I am aware you are struggling to understand the politics of China’s Xin Dynasty. I have the same difficulty understanding Mr. Kelly’s assignments. Perhaps we could help each other.”

Dean didn’t feel like doing homework, least of all history, but Castiel was already opening his book and Dean didn’t feel like kicking him out.

It was strange, having Castiel in his room. He was nothing like the people he usually hung out with. He was awkward, horrible at catching social cues, and had a bad habit of making people uncomfortable.

But he was also the kind of person who sneaked out of their home and set toxic fumes to other people’s schools. He was competitive enough to challenge Dean both physically and academically.

He was surprised to realize that he considered the dark-haired guy a friend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you play,” Castiel said softly, playing with the pages of his book.

“It’s okay. It was a horrible game,” Dean shrugged. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “We will still practice in the morning together, correct?”

“Coach is making us all do Killer Drills every morning,” Dean said. “I won’t make it.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Castiel murmured.

“It is absolute torture,” Dean said. “I’m talking bear crawls, mat drills, monkey rolls, 50-40s… the worst of the worst.”

“I understand,” Castiel said, shrugging.

“We can still hang out,” Dean suggested hesitantly. He couldn’t imagine seeing Castiel in any scenario that didn’t include a football or a book.

“Maybe,” Cas mumbled. “What did you get for number seventeen?”

It was a poor way to change the topic, but Dean went with it. There really wasn’t anything else to talk about.

 

Dean was sore. Every single muscle was hurting, every bone ached, and every nerve was on fire. Coach Turner was working them to the ground, and he didn’t care if someone threw up, passed out, or burst out crying in the middle of a play.

Dean had never been in better physical condition nor so close to falling into a sleep-induced coma. It was only their sheer stamina that kept them from losing to St. Patrick for their second game.

They weren’t so lucky against Woodthrow. The final score was twenty-seven to nine, with Kripke on the losing side. To say Coach Turner was pissed was a major understatement.

“Eighteen points!” the Coach yelled at them on the bus ride home. “We lost by eighteen-freaking-points!”

“Coach, we tried our best!” Dean defended. And they had. They were bone-deep tired. They had given it their all. But they couldn’t win against a school that had the same stamina as them, but better skills.

“Well, apparently, your best isn’t enough!” Coach Turner yelled. “You are all off the team!”

“What?” Benny gasped. “You can’t do that! We’re in the middle of the season!”

“I am holding open trials this Monday. If any of you want back on the team, show up. If not, good riddance. Tonight, when you leave home, empty your locker rooms. I’m starting from scratch.”

“Coach, you can’t do this to us!” Dean exclaimed. “It’s crazy!”

“My decision it’s final!”

Dean gaped at him. Coach Turner never held open trials for the Varsity team. The only way to get in was to be bumped up from JV. Every single player in the team had worked their way through the Freshmen and JV teams. Being in Varsity was a not a right, it had to be earned… and now the Coach was going to let just anybody in?

It wasn’t fair! But there was nothing they could do about it. Coach Turner wasn’t somebody who easily changed his mind.

“He can’t do that, can’t he?” Victor murmured to him from where he was sitting behind Dean.

“He can,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “We have nothing to worry about, though. We just need to try out again.”

“This is utter bullshit.”

The sentiment was shared throughout the team. Coach Turner watched over them as they emptied their lockers.

“Tryouts will be held tomorrow after school. If you wish to stay a member of this team, I suggest you show up,” he growled. “Now get out of my locker room.”

Dean, Victor, and Benny weren’t the only ones that thought Coach Turner was being unfair.

“He can’t do that!” Jo gasped when they told her the next day during breakfast.

It was the first time since school started that Dean had been able to eat breakfast with Sam and Jo. It felt weird, not being worked until his muscles cried.

“You guys worked so hard to get into Varsity,” Sam agreed. “And he just kicked you out?”

“He wants to win State,” Benny shrugged. “We all do.”

“As a team,” Victor growled. “And it’s not just about skill… we have to be able to trust our team mates. You can only get that through years of working together.”

“At least you guys know you’re getting back in,” Jo said. “I think Jerry is feeling a bit depressed.”

“Coach messed him up,” Dean shook his head. “Jerry works better in the line. He’s not a scorer.”

“So you guys are not going to like anybody new?” Sam asked curiously.

“We’re going to put them through hell,” Victor growled. “If they want to get into the team, they’re going to have to pass our own tryouts. See if anybody can survive a week of Killer Drills.”

“The bell is about to ring. Get back to your school before you’re late,” Dean told Sam. “Are you going to Jess’ house today, too?”

“No, she has family over,” Sam said. “I’ll wait for you on the benches.”

“You can watch the tryouts with me,” Jo said, patting him on the back.

“See you, Sam,” Victor and Benny said, and Dean’s little brother waved goodbye.

In Mr. Kelly’s class, Dean found out he wasn’t the only one having problems.

“We got six points in the first challenge,” Charlie groaned, letting her head fall on the desk. “Miss Naomi looked like she was going to explode when she read the results.”

“Is that why she was so snappy this morning?” Dean asked, remembering how Miss Naomi had yelled at Ash for misunderstanding the theme on Wuthering Heights.

“Yeah. Can’t you just join the team, Dean?” Anna asked, grabbing his hand. “Pretty please?”

“I have enough in my plate with football,” Dean shrugged apologetically. “Coach kicked everyone off the team and is holding open trials today after school. We’re getting a brand new team in the middle of the season.”

“I heard about your loss against Woodthrow. Man, that sucks,” Charlie said. “But you’re the team Captain, right? So you know you have a spot.”

“If he finds a better quarterback, I’m off the team,” Dean shrugged.

“He can’t do that!” Castiel piped in suddenly. “You worked so hard!”

Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas. But Coach Turner doesn’t listen to reason. He’s going to work us extra hard now, just because he can. He wanted to go to State undefeated, and now we can’t. We really pissed him off.”

“Well, Mother gave us the afternoon off, since she’s planning a whole new project for next week’s challenge. We can go watch the tryouts,” Anna suggested.

“That’ll be great,” Dean said. “Jo and Sam will be there. And the team always does better when they have someone cheering them on. Hopefully, we won’t lose anybody that was already on the team.”

“As fascinating as I’m sure your conversation is, Dean, I’m pretty sure my work is better,” Mr. Kelly called from his desk. “Why don’t you give it a look?”

“Sorry, sir,” Dean said as Anna and Charlie quickly pretended to be working.

After school, Dean found the majority of the school population on the field. Anybody that wasn’t trying out was in the stands, ready to cheer or ridicule, whichever one fit more.

Anybody that wanted to try out was on the field, dressed in their black gym shorts and gray t-shirts.

Dean was running a little late, since Miss Stephanie had kept him behind to talk to him about his work on bioengineering. When he arrived in the locker rooms, ten minutes late, he was surprised to see Castiel getting changed into his gym clothes.

“Cas?” he said, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

Castiel jumped, surprised, and turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “Dean. Hello.”

“Uh, hello… so, what are you doing here?” Dean repeated, and to his surprise, Castiel blushed.

“I, uh…I thought I could try out,” Castiel mumbled.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “What?” asked, mouth agape.

“Well, you said it was an open tryout, and we seem to work well together. And since I have the Decathlon, and you have football, we haven’t been able to see each other. And you said that we could still spend time together, so I thought this could be a good way to do that . I have more free time than you, so I can easily be on the Decathlon team and on your team—that is, of course, if you don’t mind that I’m trying out? Because I just thought it could be fun, you know? And if I’m overstepping my boundaries, I completely understand. I won’t try out. I mean, I probably won’t even make it. What was I thinking? There are probably dozens more that are better than me and I—“

“Cas, stop talking,” Dean cut in. This was the most he had ever heard Castiel speak, ever, and he had a feeling that if he had let him, Castiel would have gone on for hours.

Castiel would work great as a wide receiver. He had already proved that he could catch anything Dean threw at him, and he was fast. How bad could it really be to have him on the team? Benny and Victor would be upset, of course, but Castiel was their friend, too. They would probably give him a pass, right? It would be fun. Besides, Castiel was right. It was an open trial, Dean couldn’t very well tell him not to try out.

“Cas, if you want to try out, go ahead,” Dean finally said. “But hurry up, or Coach will kill us for being late.”

Castiel beamed and nodded. He and Dean changed together, and hurried outside where Coach Turner had ordered everyone to stretch out.

“Dean, hurry up, boy!” he yelled once he caught sight of him. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Castiel Novak, Coach. He’s trying out for wide receiver,” Dean said.

“Hmm. Go stretch with the others.”

More than two hundred people had shown up for tryouts. Coach Turner decided to weed them out by running the one hundred yard dash. Anybody that ran it under thirteen seconds stayed for the second round. Anybody that didn’t, was kicked out.

Dean ran his at 10.48 and Victor, the fastest in the team, ran his at 10.18. Dean didn’t know Cas’ speed, but was glad to see him move on to the second drill.

The hundred yard dash cut the number of students to half. The shuttle drill, which measured an athlete’s agility, cut another twenty-five.

“What position did you say your friend wanted to try?” Coach Turner asked Dean as they watched Cas run the drill.

“Wide receiver.”

Coach Turner only hummed in response, but Dean wasn’t worried. Castiel was doing well—surprisingly well, in fact.

With only fifty-four students left, Coach was able to separate the players by the position they wanted.

Dean was with only two other people, a fellow senior and the quarterback for the JV team. On the other side of the field, Castiel was with the other four wide receivers.

Coach Turner  set up the boot sprint out and throw drill for Dean and the other two quarterbacks, which tested footwork, agility, and speed. It didn’t last long, though. Quarterbacks were supposed to be in synch for it to work, but Dean was always too fast for the other two. The Coach stopped it before it was even over.

There were a couple of volunteer assistant coaches that were helping Coach Turner with the offense and defense lines, while Coach Turner took care of the running backs, cornerbacks, wide receivers, linebackers, and safeties.

Victor and Benny did great, of course. Their speed and footwork was amazing, and even when they were paired up with the other none-too-skilled quarterbacks to run their drill, they managed to do well.

Castiel, however, was doing terribly.

“I thought you said he could catch,” Jerry snickered, watching as Castiel dropped another ball. If he didn’t fumble the ball, he either stopped too short or ran too far to catch it. Dean could see Coach Turner getting irritated, and even some of the other players had stopped to watch the disaster.

Dean frowned. Castiel was a good catcher. He had seen it before. For god’s sake, he had caught Dean’s throws!

And that was just it.

Castiel was good. He read the quarterbacks correctly. He didn’t go by the play the Coach called. He went by the quarterback’s stance. Cas didn’t know anything about football. He knew ball trajectory, speed and velocity. It wasn’t that he couldn’t catch, it was that the other quarterbacks couldn’t throw.

“Alright, son, that’s enough,” Coach Turner called after another ball went over Castiel’s head.

“Wait, Coach, let me try,” Dean called out quickly.

“Dean, we’re on a timed schedule,” Coach Turner snapped.

“C’mon, Coach. John and Pablo suck! You can’t expect anybody to catch their throws!”

“Everybody else did, at least once,” Coach Turner said. “I’m sorry, Dean, but—”

“Look, let me try,” Dean said. “If he doesn’t catch the ball, then I quit the team.”

“What? Dean, you can’t—” Castiel started, but Dean stopped him with a raised hand.

“You sure about this, boy?” Coach Turner asked, frowning.

“One hundred percent,” Dean said firmly.

“Alright.”

“Dean, I can’t—”

“Castiel, you can do this,” Dean murmured, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder. “I know it. You can do this.”

“But if I don’t catch a ball, you won’t be able to play anymore!” Castiel whispered.

“Don’t worry,” Dean grinned. “You’ll do great.”

Castiel still didn’t look sure, so Dean gave him a push to get him going. It was kind of adorable, in a completely non-cute way, how Castiel looked all scared with his huge blue eyes and trembling lip.

Dean smiled encouragingly at him, and took his stance. He took it easy for the first few throws, and Castiel slowly regained his confidence. Soon, he was catching everything Dean was throwing at him.

“Look at that!” Coach Turner cheered. “That’s my boy!”

“Whoo!” Benny and Victor yelled along with the other teammates.

Dean was in his element. It didn’t matter what he did, Castiel was there, ready. It didn’t matter if Dean threw a fake pass, if he tried to throw Castiel off… Castiel was able to read him like a book.

And then Dean made a mistake. He grew too confident, and he threw the next catch too far. Castiel read his stance right and ran to the exact spot where Dean meant to throw the ball. Dean winced, expecting the ball to go right above his head—But Castiel jumped it, stretching his entire body taut to reach, then landed perfectly.

“That was awesome!” Dean cheered, rushing to Castiel.

“I caught that!” Castiel beamed, gripping Dean’s shoulders and jumping excitedly. “It was amazing, Dean!”

“I know!” Dean grinned, and—at this moment Dean clearly wasn’t thinking right—gripped Castiel in a tight hug. He took a moment to wonder at how perfect they fit together—from Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around Castiel’s waist, to their chests pressed together, to Castiel’s face buried in his neck—and then realized that he had practically plastered himself against Castiel.

He scrambled away from Castiel, blushing brightly, but before he could blunder out some kind of excuse, Victor and Benny were there, cheering. The rest of the team followed, and Dean let himself be pried away from Castiel in a mass of cheering bodies.

He tried to focus on his beaming teammates and hysterical Coach, and not on how right Castiel’s body had felt against his.


	9. It's Not Working

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. My internet was cut off for a little while, but now it's back.

Dean was being childish, but he didn’t care. He was avoiding Castiel at every turn, going as far as skipping showers just to not be in the locker room at the same time as Castiel. It was kind of hard though, especially since they shared three classes and then spent three hours every day after school at practice together.

Coach Turner was in love with Castiel. He had nothing but praise for him, and he even braved Miss Naomi to keep Castiel on the team. Of course, Dean was the one who caught the short end of that stick.

“But Coach, I don’t have time to be on the Decathlon,” Dean argued. Coach Turner had pulled him and Castiel into his office right after practice. He hadn’t even let them take off their smelly clothes.

Castiel was standing quietly next to him, but Dean wasn’t paying much attention. He was always quiet.

“Look, that was the deal I made with Naomi,” Coach snapped. “Castiel can be on the team, but only if I give you time off to join her Decathlon. She’ll move her meetings to the morning so you and Castiel can have the afternoons off to come to practice. It’s only fair, Dean. ”

“For you!” Dean snapped. “I’m going to have to wake up two hours early every day! And what about my school work? I won’t have time to complete anything!”

“Your school work is fine, Dean,” the Coach said, waving his hand impatiently. “You could probably miss a couple of school days and still have the highest GPA on the team.”

“That’s not the point! I have to keep a certain GPA to receive my grant money—”

“I don’t see Cas complaining,” he shrugged. “If you need so much help, then ask him for help.”

“Coach, I—”

“My decision is final, Dean! Take a shower and go home.”

Dean glared at him, but Coach Turner ignored him. Another two hours of the day, gone! He wouldn’t even be able to see Sam anymore. As it was, Dean only had time to exchange greetings with his brother in the mornings and to check on him at nights. He couldn’t even remember the last time they sat down and watched a movie together.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel spoke quietly.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, angrily pulling clean clothes out of his locker.

“It seems my joining the team is only causing you trouble,” Castiel said. “Maybe it would be best if I quit.”

“It’s not you, Castiel,” Dean sighed. It really wasn’t. If Dean didn’t spent so much effort hiding from Castiel, he could probably save himself a little time. And it wasn’t Castiel’s fault that Dean was running away from taking a hard, honest look at his sexuality. Castiel only wanted a friend—he had stepped out of his comfort zone to spend more time with Dean—and Dean was pushing him away. It wasn’t fair. “If it weren’t for you, Coach would still be torturing us with drills. Honestly, you are the only thing keeping us from dying from exhaustion.”

Castiel smiled. “Maybe I could help you with your work. I know Miss Rosen put an engineering focus on your schedule, which can be very taxing. My own focuses more in humanities. My only difficult class is Mr. Kelly’s, and you’re always there to help me. I have lots of free time, so I could definitely help you with your Medieval Latin class. Or with Government. Or even Behavioral Science.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He winced as he watched Castiel’s smile fade, so he quickly answered. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

“That’s only if you want,” Castiel said quietly.

“Sure I do,” Dean said, faking enthusiasm. “We can meet after practice. I’ll give you a ride every day. But can we start tomorrow? I just want to get home and crash on my bed today.”

“Whatever works best for you, Dean,” Castiel said. He pulled off his shirt, and Dean froze. Dean had forgotten that they still needed to shower. And they were alone in the locker room. He felt his body warm as Castiel bent down to slip off his shorts.

“Dean? Aren’t you going to shower?” Castiel asked, hands poised to take off his underwear.

“Hmm? No, I—I’ll shower at home,” Dean said quickly. “See you tomorrow, Cas!”

He didn’t wait for an answer, practically running out of the locker room. He didn’t slow down until he was inside his Baby, being soothed by the familiar sound of Blue  Öyster Cult. The image of Castiel, practically naked, was still burnt into his eyes. This was just getting ridiculous! If he were gay, wouldn’t he have noticed sooner? For fuck’s sake, he was in football, a sport dominated by men.

Castiel was hot, yes, but so was Benny. And Victor. Even Jerry had that whole baby face thing going for him. Wouldn’t he have noticed them sooner, if he really were gay? Or bisexual?

You did notice, a tiny voice whispered in his head, but Castiel’s special.

“I can’t believe I have a fucking crush on that dorky little guy,” Dean muttered to his Baby’s steering wheel. It felt strangely freeing to admit it, even if he still wasn’t planning on doing anything about it. If he asked Castiel out, and by some miracle Castiel agreed, then Dean would be in a homosexual relationship in a highly intolerant town. Not to mention his father would kill him. He was pretty sure his friends wouldn’t care, and neither would Sam, but what about Castiel’s parents? Miss Naomi didn’t seem like the most agreeable woman in the world.

Would his teammates feel uncomfortable? Would he be treated differently? And what if Castiel said no? That would make things so awkward for both of them, seeing as they had to work together every day.

No, either direction this crush took him would bring problems, and Dean didn’t have the time. He would simply have to control his libido. And stop thinking about what Castiel would look like naked and bent over in front of him.

It was definitely going to be harder than he thought.

 

On Thursday, everything took a turn for the better.

The day started well enough. He met with the rest of the Decathlon team that morning, and he was greeted cheerfully. He knew most of them from sight, but the only people he really talked to were Charlie, Anna, Castiel, and Ash.

He learned the rules of the competition. Basically, each team had to complete ten challenges to gain a certain amount of points. After each challenge, the teams that didn’t reach the set goal were kicked out. It continued on until the last challenge, with only four teams remaining.

They were in the second challenge, which mostly consisted of solving math problems, and that was the reason Miss Naomi insisted so much on Dean joining the team.

Dean enjoyed the challenge, mostly because it was hard enough to warrant his full attention, giving little time to think about how hot Castiel looked in a sweater vest.

He didn’t have such luck during lunch. Anna, Castiel, and Charlie decided to join them again, and Dean was glad to see that they all got along. Charlie kept subtly flirting with Jo, and it had become a bet between Dean and Victor how long it would take for Jo to notice. Anna seemed a little bit smitten by Benny, but Benny only had eyes for Andrea. And Victor and Benny were both in love with Castiel’s ability to catch a ball.

Right after school, Miss Rosen gave him something that put him in an even better mood.

“Miss Rosen? You wanted to see me?” Dean asked, peeking in.

Miss Rosen looked up from her laptop, cheeks a little flushed, and smiled. “Dean! Yes, yes. Come in, have a seat.”

Dean hesitated a bit before obeying. Miss Rosen was a good person, but she sometimes still made him feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was her eyes, and how predatory they could look.

“I have something for you,” Miss Rosen said, looking through her desk drawers. “It would usually arrive in the mail, but I wanted to be the one to give it to you. Where is it….? Here!” She pulled out a white envelope and handed it to him.

Curiously, Dean took it and opened it. Inside, there was a check for…holy fuck. “Seven thousand dollars?” Dean gasped. “Is this…is this for me?”

“Yes!” Miss Rosen beamed. “It will usually only be around five thousand, but the IMU sent you a little extra for your work in Mr. Kelly’s classroom. And this form is to ask your permission to publish a paper about you in the Mathematic Magazine.”

Dean skimmed through the form before signing, distracted by the seven thousand dollar check in his hand. “This money….is all mine, right? To do as I please?”

“Yes,” Miss Rosen nodded. “It’s expected for you to save it for college, but you can actually do whatever you want with it. It is yours.”

Dean’s blinked, the only sign he gave to show how overwhelmed he felt. He could finally buy Sam new clothes, pay the mortgage bill on the house, the two months of electricity bill that were due, buy groceries to last them through the month, purchase books for Sam that weren’t ripped or written on. Heck, he could even indulge a little and buy Baby a new eight-track player. And he would still have enough to put aside for Sam’s college tuition.

“Dean, are you listening to me?” Miss Rosen cut through his musings.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said quickly. “What were you saying?”

Miss Rosen smiled. “I just wished you luck on tomorrow’s game.”

“Thank you,” Dean smiled. “But with Cas on the team, we have the game in the bag.”

“I’m looking forward to it then. You can go back to class now. You can tell your teacher to call me if they need a tardy pass.”

“See you later, Miss Rosen,” Dean smiled, standing up. “And thank you again…for everything.”

Miss Rosen simply smiled and waved goodbye.

Dean folded the check into a small square and tucked it in behind his ID. It was under his name, so he could simply cash it at the bank. Coach Turner didn’t make them practice too long after school, and Dean made up another lame excuse for why he couldn’t hang out with Castiel.

He drove straight to the bank to cash his check, took a detour to pay his bills, then returned to the middle school in time to pick up Sam.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sam mentioned, glancing at him curiously.

“It’s a good day,” Dean shrugged, smiling. “What do you want to eat tonight?”

“There’s still a cup of rice,” Sam said. “There’s some tomatoes and onions in the fridge…and I think I still have some leftover money from last week. I could scrape together enough to buy half a pound of chicken. How much do you have?”

“Enough for more than half a pound of chicken,” Dean grinned. “I just got paid.”

“I thought you’d quit your job,” Sam frowned.

“I got my grant money,” Dean said. “Seven thousand dollars. I just finished paying the overdue bills, including electricity bill, the gas bill, the water bill, and the mortgage. We can buy groceries on Saturday, and we can even get you a new backpack. That tape won’t last much longer.”

Sam glanced at the straps of his frayed backpack. He had wrapped so much duct tape around them that he had forgotten the original color.

“Dean, that money is for your college tuition,” Sam said seriously.

“Don’t start,” Dean sighed. “It’s five thousand a month, Sam. And I can still apply for scholarships…we can get you a fucking new backpack.”

Sam smirked. “This is the first time you don’t immediately shut down the idea of going to college.”

Dean glanced at Sam, surprised, then blushed. “Shut up, or I’ll just buy you a freaking burger.”

“I feel like Chinese tonight.”

Dean did buy Chinese that night. He also bought a pecan pie, his first in almost five months. It was the first time in—God, in years really—that he didn’t go to bed hungry. Instead, he hid the leftover money, almost four thousand still, in an empty shoe box and shoved it under his bed.

He went to bed looking forward to the next day.

 


	10. To The Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So sorry for the long wait. Life came in the way, but it's all been taken care of now. Without further ado, here's chapter ten. Hope you guys like it :)

Friday, everything fell apart.

The day started well enough. Dean woke up two hours early and got ready for school. He woke up Sam after he had made breakfast and arrived at school at the same time Charlie did.

“Who are you guys playing against?” she asked as they waited for everyone else to arrive at the library.

“Yates High,” Dean answered. “They’re pretty good, but they’re not one of the best.”

“I can’t believe Castiel joined the football team,” Charlie sighed. “He’s starting to become more outgoing. He’s actually pretty funny, too, you know.”

Dean grinned. “Does somebody has a teenie-weenie crush on Cas?”

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, you.”

Dean choked on air and Charlie rolled her eyes. “What?” Dean gasped.

“Dude, it’s not like you even hide it,” Charlie sighed. “You blush tomato red every time he even looks at you.”

“No I don’t!” Dean squeaked. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I don’t,” he repeated, voice back to normal.

“Whatever,” Charlie shrugged. “I would usually tell you to go for it, but I’m have my own hopeless crush. I seriously think Jo’s straight.”

“Sorry,” Dean said sympathetically. “But you aren’t, you know….?”

“What? No. I’m not going to tell anybody about your huge embarrassing crush,” Charlie said. “I’m not in the habit of cleaning other people’s closets.”

“Thanks,” Dean muttered.

He half expected Charlie to go back on her word and out him in front of Castiel, but she really did seem too preoccupied to bother about him. Castiel, like always, was oblivious.

“Do you truly believe I’m going to do well?” Castiel asked him nervously during Mr. Kelly’s class.

When Mr. Kelly had allowed them to work in groups, Dean had been the most surprised to see Castiel immediately pair up with him. He felt a little special, especially when he saw the jealous looks others sent his way. Castiel may have not been the most socially graced, but he was widely perceived as the smartest kid in school.

“Dude, relax,” Dean smiled. “A game is just like practice. Except with less breaks.”

“It’s just…I don’t want to disappoint you,” Castiel muttered.

A strange, tight feeling gripped his chest and Dean gasped for air. Castiel was idly twirling his pencil, studying his answers, unaware that he had almost killed Dean with his words.

“You’re going to do fine,” Dean finally answered. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Castiel replied instantly, smiling.

Dean wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and nodded, afraid his voice would break if he spoke. Thankfully, Mr. Kelly called his name at that moment and Dean hurriedly rushed to his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Kelly?”

“Miss Rosen told me about the article they’re publishing about you on Mathematics Magazine,” Mr. Kelly said, smiling. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Dean beamed. “The IMU also gave me a couple of grand.”

“They tend to do that,” Mr. Kelly said. “You are in their sight now. They probably will contact you soon, try and see if there are any other problems you can solve.”

“Well, I haven’t had a problem with any of the work you assigned us so far,” Dean shrugged. “I mean, math has always been pretty straightforward for me.”

“And is this something you plan to do in the future?” Mr. Kelly asked curiously. “I know you’re just a junior, but colleges will soon start looking at you. They are going to want you to join their programs…and if you don’t know what you want, it will be really easy to get roped into a job you don’t enjoy.”

“I like fixing cars,” Dean shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable to voice it aloud. “I know it’s nothing fancy or anything, but…I really love it, you know? I like taking things apart and putting them back together, each time a little better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mr. Kelly shrugged. “I mean, I’m a teacher. It’s not like I’m going to tell you there’s a job you’re too good to be in. Any job is worth something, and the most important thing is that you like it.”

Dean smiled. It was strange….his father had basically told him the same thing countless of times before, yet he never sounded like Mr. Kelly. Perhaps it was the fact that his father always made him feel like being a mechanic was the only thing Dean could hope to be, while Mr. Kelly made him feel like it was okay to want to be a mechanic, regardless of his skills.

“Thank you, Mr. Kelly,” Dean said.

“Tonight’s game is against Yates correct?”

“Yup. And it’s a home game, too.”

“Well, then you’ll see me there tonight,” Mr. Kelly said. “So you better win.”

“With Cas in the team, it will be hard not to,” Dean grinned.

“Teenagers these days are so cocky,” Mr. Kelly said, but he was smiling. “Alright, the bell is about to ring. Go get your stuff ready.”

Dean nodded and hurried back to his seat. Castiel was finishing up their work, and Dean felt a little guilty that he had left him to work by himself. Castiel, however, smiled widely when he saw him.

“Is everything fine?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Mr. Kelly said he’ll come to the game,” Dean said.

“My mother is coming as well,” Castiel nodded. “Is your father coming as well?”

“Nah, my dad is working,” Dean shrugged. “But Jo’s stepdad is coming. He’s kinda like a second father to Sam and me.”

“Then I can’t wait to meet him,” Castiel smiled, just as the bell rung. “See you after school, Dean,” he added, leaving before Dean could say anything.

“Deepest shade of red I’ve ever seen,” Charlie said from his right. Dean turned to glare at her, but the girl simply blew him a kiss goodbye and stepped out.

He worked on controlling the color of his face, but it was hard when he felt his cheeks warm every time he even thought of Castiel. Seriously, though, this had never happened to him before. He’d had a couple of crushes before (most recently Lisa) and they’d never made him act like a blushing, stuttering fool. Was it because Cas was the first guy he’d ever really liked?

Thankfully, he didn’t have many classes with him, so he was saved from further embarrassment.

And after school, Coach Turner kept Castiel locked in his office, going over every single play, so Dean didn’t have to worry about talking to him.

“I seriously feel bad for Cas right now,” Benny said, staring at Castiel and the Coach huddled over his desk. “I’ve never seen Coach this obsessed before.”

“Cas is like his Holy Grail…with him, he finally has a complete team,” Victor shrugged. “He’s like, your perfect partner, Dean.”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, blushing. He caught Castiel’s eye through the window, and the dark-haired boy waved at him excitedly before Coach Turner smacked his arm and angrily pointed down to the playbook. Dean smiled. He couldn’t help it.

“Somebody go rescue him,” Dean said, leaning back on the lockers. “The game is about to start.”

Yates was a good team. Not as good as Jefferson, nor North Channel…but good. With the addition of Castiel on the team, however, they won easily.

It was almost as if Dean and Cas had been made to work with each other. It was so easy to read Castiel, so simple to know what he was thinking. It felt like he could read the boy’s mind simply by staring into his eyes, and by the way the game went, it was obvious Castiel felt the same way.

Dean blocked out the sound of the cheering students and focused on Castiel, watching him run gracefully down the stretch of the green field.

The game ended 48-3, with the win going to Kripke.

“We won!” Castiel shouted, grabbing Dean’s shoulder pads. “We won, Dean!”

“I told you!” Dean yelled back. “You did great!”

Benny crashed into them, pulling Dean into a tight hug, and Victor slammed helmets with Castiel. Dean laughed at Castiel’s confused look, then knocked helmets with him too. In the locker room, Coach Turner praised them for the first time before going back outside to subtle mock the Coach from the other team.

“We need to celebrate this,” Victor said. “Party at my house tomorrow night! Jerry, you’re not invited!”

“Fuck you, Vic.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. It’s going to be awesome,” Victor grinned. “You’re coming, too, right Cas?”

“Mmh?” Castiel looked up from where he was taking off his pads. “Oh…I don’t know...”

“You have to come!” Benny insisted. “You’re tonight’s MVP.”

“Are you going, Dean?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Y-yeah,” Dean shrugged, turning away from him. “It’ll be fun.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Castiel told Victor. The boy cheered and trapped him in one of his infamous bear hugs.

Dean dressed hurriedly and walked out in the midst of all the laughter. It was getting harder and harder to be around Castiel. It was almost as if admitting his feelings aloud had opened up a dam inside him. If only he could just ask the boy out…even if Cas didn’t like him, he wished he could just tell someone how he felt.

Sam was waiting for him in the parking lot. He was seated in Baby’s hood, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his phone.

“Dad’s home,” he said when Dean came close to hearing distance. “He called me.”

“I thought he was working,” Dean frowned, pushing his brother off his car. He dusted the imaginary specks off her, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“He got fired. Ellen and Bobby wanted us to go back to the Roadhouse, but Dad is pretty drunk.”

“Let’s go make sure he isn’t drowning in his own vomit,” Dean sighed. Sam didn’t answer, but climbed inside the car.

The door to their house was open when they arrived, and Dean closed it softly behind him, in case his father was asleep.

No such luck. John was stretched out on their couch, watching infomercials while sipping a half-empty glass of bourbon.

“House’s empty when I came home,” John said, his words a bit slurred.

“There was a game tonight,” Dean answered. He glanced at Sam, then at the stairs, and his brother got the hint. Dean walked towards his father as Sam quickly snuck upstairs. “Is everything alright?”

“’S all fine,” John shrugged. “Why’d you ask?”

Dean nodded to the bottle. “Usually, it’s just beer.”

“Came into some money,” John shrugged again.

Dean froze. No. Oh god, please no. He rushed past his father and up the stairs, a string of no’s circling his mind. It couldn’t be. He slammed his door open and hurriedly pulled out the box from underneath his bed. The now empty shoe box.

“So what’d you do, Dean?”

Dean looked up at his father, too numb to be surprised that he had managed to climb the stairs in his condition.

“Stole a couple of bucks? Went down the biker’s bar and played—.”

“It was mine,” Dean interrupted. He bit his tongue, instantly regretting his words.

“What did you say, boy?” John growled.

Dean kept quiet, kept his eyes on the ground. It was fine. All of the leftover money was going to be used for luxuries, anyway. Dean had already paid all of the bills. Sam could wait for new clothes until next month. Dean would just have to find a better place to hide the money.

“Dean?”

“Go to your room, Sam,” Dean said quickly, looking up to see Sam standing behind his father.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, ignoring him. “Dad?”

“You’re brother’s a goddam thief, that’s what,” John snapped. “And I hope you didn’t rope your little brother into your mess, Dean, because I fucking will—.”

“You took his money?” Sam gaped, his eyes glued to the empty shoe box in front of Dean. “That wasn’t yours, you goddamn drunk!”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed.

“No, Dean!” Sam yelled angrily. “He fucking spent all of your money! On what, beer? He worked hard for that, Dad, and you just took it?”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” John growled. “I am your father!”

“Piss poor excuse for one!” Sam yelled. “What kind of father leaves his sons alone for months? You’re not my father, you’re just some drunk that sometimes sleeps on our couch. Dean’s been more a father to me that you would ever hope to be!”

“I leave for work!” John finally shouted back. “I work to put food in you and your brother’s belly, and I do it doing honest work. I don’t steal from anyone, like your stupid brother. I thought he was fucking old enough to know how to take care of you, but if this is the fucking person he’s raising you to be, then he’s doing a worse job than I thought.”

“Sam, just go to your room,” Dean pleaded. “Come on, buddy. Just…please.”

“No, Dean. Enough is enough,” Sam growled.

“What the hell have you been doing all of this time, Dean?” John glared at Dean. “You can’t even teach your brother not to talk back? I leave you for one month, and I come back to this? And that teacher thought you were a genius. Ha! Too stupid to even raise a kid.”

Dean bit his tongue again, the words begging to rush out.

“You’re the one who supposed to raise me,” Sam said. “But you can’t even do that. No wonder mom left you.”

Dean gaped at his brother. His little brother, standing there, talking back to their father. Sam was shaking, his hands balled into fist at his sides, but his knees trembling. He was scared…but he was still talking back. Defending Dean.

He saw, almost in slow motion, as John raised his arm. It was only too natural for him to rush forward, to push Sam out of the way and take the punch meant for his little brother.

His face exploded with pain, but he had grown to learn how to fight through the pain since little. He grabbed his dad by the middle and pushed him back, falling down with him.

“Get the fuck off me!” John yelled, and punched him in the stomach. “I will fucking kill him!”

“He’s right!” Dean yelled, tasting copper in his mouth. “It’s your fault mom’s dead! It’s your fault she left! You’re the one who couldn’t fucking take care of his family!”

John roared and aimed another punch at him, this one grazing him in the forehead. Dean stumbled off him, dizzy, and his father took the opportunity to climb on top of him.

“I do everything for you!” John yelled. “I gave up my life for you! I loved your mother and she left me because of you!” John reiterated every sentence with a punch to Dean’s body. He didn’t even care where he hit, and Dean couldn’t tell anymore, either. He was just a big pile of pain and blood. “You were supposed to be like her! With your eyes and your hair and you—you’re nothing like her! You’re just a stupid, good-for-nothing kid. If this is the type of son you are, it would’ve been best if you’d died in that car with her. You’d think she’s proud of you?”

Dean couldn’t talk, even if he wanted too. His left eye was swollen shut, and his lip was bleeding badly. His whole body hurt to the point where every punch that followed felt dulled. And yet, his mind was strangely clear.

It was so funny to think that he had been scared of this man once. Like this, with his face red and hot, tears running down his face, and the stink of alcohol in his mouth, his father looked like…well, like a drunk.

Even his words…once, they would’ve hurt Dean to his core. But…yeah, his mother would’ve been proud of him. She was the reason why he loved to read, after all. She was the one who used to help him with his homework when he got stuck. She was the one who taught him the trick he used for long division. He thought of what she would say if she knew that Dean was part of the Galilei Decathlon. That the IMU was interested in him. That his teachers actually seemed interested in his opinion. How different would his life be if she were alive? What would she say if Dean told him that he liked a boy?

“What are you fucking laughing at?” John yelled, surprising Dean. Only then did he noticed that he was, in fact, laughing.

It was weak and breathless, but he was laughing. Once he realized it, he only laughed harder. His father yelled again, and Dean couldn’t help but think it sounded kind of helpless. He saw the next punch coming, and he winced in spite of himself, but it never came.

His father was pushed off him and someone grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him out of his room. He struggled, afraid that it was Sam who had taken on his father, but he was distracted when his eyes fell on Victor.

“Victor?” he asked, except the words came out garbled from his swollen face.

“Oh god, Dean,” Victor whispered.

Dean looked back to his room and saw Victor’s father and another officer pinning a struggling John to the ground. His father was screaming and kicking, trying to fight the officers off, but they were too strong for him.

“Let’s go, Dean,” Sam whispered, appearing behind Sam. “Come on.”

Oh. Sam had called Victor’s dad. Of course. Dean had forgotten that his friend’s dad was a cop.

“Let me go!” John screamed. “I will fucking kill him! Let me go, you fucking pigs. Let me go!”

“Goddamn it, John!” Officer Henrickson shouted. “Victor, get them out of here!”

“Come on,” Victor muttered. Together with Sam’s help, they managed to get Dean on his feet. Now that his father was no longer hitting him, he felt every muscle on his body cramp with pain.

“We’re gonna have to take him to a hospital,” Sam said.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean tried to say. He was confident Sam understood him, because he rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one that’s hurt, Dean. Don’t comfort me,” Sam snapped.

“’M gonna be okay,” Dean muttered again. His vision was starting to go black around the edges and his feet started to drag on the ground. His brother’s voice was fading, and soon, consciousness left him, too.


	11. The Aftermath

Dean woke up to a painful, burning sensation. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again as bright light glared in front of him. It took him a few confused moments to realize he was laying down on a warm bed with scratchy sheets. That, coupled with the strong smell of disinfectant, clued him in to the fact that he was in a hospital.

Now prepared for the pain, he opened his eyes again and blinked a couple of times to get used to the light.

Sure enough, he was in a hospital room, an ice pack resting on his chest. He wasn’t hooked up to a heart monitor, so his injuries probably weren’t life threatening. He was, however, dressed in the uncomfortable hospital gown that left your whole backside open to the world. He shifted uncomfortably and lifted the ice pack from his chest.

The length of his chest was covered in dark blue-ish bruises that reached all the way up to his shoulder. His face felt pretty bruised, too, and he was familiar enough with the injuries of a beating to know he was probably sporting a pretty huge black eye. Which most likely explained his limited eyesight. He heard a few quiet voices and turned his head to look through the open door.

There was someone standing out in the hallway, but he was far enough that Dean could barely see his back. He could recognize that plaid shirt anywhere, though.

“Sam,” he tried calling, but it came out more like a cough. It served the same purpose, though, because Sam was instantly rushing inside the room, closely followed by Bobby and Ellen.

“Dean, how are you feeling?” Ellen spoke hurriedly, passing her hands over his body in a panicked movement. Sam, too, was staring at him like a gust of wind would blow him away.

“I’m fine,” Dean said, his voice only slightly scratchy now. “What time is it?”

“Somewhere around three,” Sam shrugged. “You’ve been out since yesterday.”

“Ugh, my head hurts,” Dean groaned, only just noticing the dull throbbing behind his right. Everything was hurting (except maybe his chest, which was numb because of the ice pack), but the bright lights were making his headache worse.

“The doctor left some pain pills,” Bobby said quickly, moving to grab something from the counter on his left. “You’re basically a big bruise.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, accepting the pills Bobby handed him. Sam offered him a cup of water, and he drank thankfully.

“Dad beat the shit out of you,” Sam said, wincing when Ellen smacked his head.

“I know that,” Dean rolled his eyes. “I mean, after.”

“They arrested John,” Bobby said. “He is facing charges of child abuse and aggravated child abandonment. Since he has a couple of misdemeanors, he’s facing up to ten years in jail.”

“Oh god,” Dean groaned. He had landed his father in jail. Him. Dean had done that. What kind of son was he? What was he going to do without his father? He was barely about to turn seventeen, Sam fourteen…they were going to be taken to a foster home. Sam would miss months of school, and Dean would probably have to quit the Galilei program…and they were too old to be adopted. They would probably live in a foster home until they were of age. God, what had he done?

“Stop it,” Sam said, snapping him from his thoughts.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“I know that look. You’re panicking,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, we’re gonna be fine. Anything’s better than being with that asswipe.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, son,” Bobby said gruffly. “Ellen and I will try to get custody of you until you graduate.”

“And if that fails, you can always get emancipated,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, you obviously make enough to support yourself financially.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ellen said hastily. “We shouldn’t be talking about this right now. How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Sore,” Dean sighed. “And hurt.”

“The doctor hasn’t said anything,” Sam said. “We think it’s a couple of broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion.”

“Coach is gonna kill me,” Dean said, wincing when a slight movement shot pain through his body.

“Jo said he punched the window in his office when he heard,” Sam said. “They had to take him to the nurse’s office, so he was pissed when practice started.”

“D-does anyone….you know—know?” Dean asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a big mystery to anyone that John wasn’t the most affectionate of fathers, but Dean had never let any of his friends know  how bad his father actually was. He was sure Jo had an inkling, since Bobby and Ellen often helped them so much, but to all of his friends, his dad’s only problem was that he left for long periods of times.

He could still remember Victor’s face in his room last night. That was something he never wanted to see again, especially from his friends.

“Well…Jo and Victor know,” Sam said softly. “I called Jess, so she knows. And I’m pretty sure Benny found out. But they wouldn’t tell anybody, Dean.”

Yeah. His friends wouldn’t do that. But what if people found out? He would have to go back to school soon. People would talk about his bruised eye. About why he wasn’t playing football anymore. They would talk about his family. Most parents already thought he was white trash…oh god, it would just get worse with the Galilei kids.

What would Castiel think?

“Can I just get some rest?” Dean said, not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“Sure, hone,” Ellen said with a wobbly smile. “Call us if you need anything.”

Bobby patted his leg awkwardly and Sam, the big sap, gave his hand a squeeze. Dean rolled his eyes and smacked him, but smiled.

He had expected to feel better after finally get rid of his father, but…it wasn’t simple. John was his father. Dean could still remember him taking him out to watch baseball games when he was younger. Him buying him his first bike. His dad kissing his mom in the mornings.

But he also remembered her crying in Sam’s room. He remembered the bruises on her arms. The fear in her voice when she spoke to his father when he was drunk. Most of all, he remembered coming home from a playdate with Jo to find his father drunk and his mother missing.

It wasn’t until weeks had passed that his dad finally told him his mother was dead. Killed in a car crash, he had said. Trying to run away from home. He had blamed her at the beginning for leaving him and Sam. Then, when he got older, he had envied her. Had envied her selfishness. Because while she had been able to leave him and Sam behind, Dean was never able to leave Sam.

He wondered if maybe Sam had felt the same way. Always biting his tongue to keep his father happy. Keep him from beating Dean.

He blinked drowsily. The pain pills were making him sleepy. He didn’t really want to go to sleep, but it was better than staying awake with his thoughts. So he closed his eyes and drifted off.

 

When he woke up again, it was starting to get dark outside of his window. And there were a lot more people in his room.

Sam was stretched out in the sofa, his head resting on Jo’s lap. Seated on the armrest was Benny, typing away on his phone. Victor was seated on the floor against the wall with Anna and Charlie.

“Don’t I get any privacy?” Dean said, startling everybody.

“Dean!” Anna exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Hi! Hello. How, um, how’re you…you know, um, feeling?”

“Could you have been any more awkward?” Jo rolled her eyes.

“What are you guys doing here?” Dean asked, shifting hesitantly. He felt a tug of pain, but ignored it. Castiel wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“What do you mean? We hear our best friend is in the hospital and you don’t think we’re gonna visit him?” Benny snapped. “Dude, that’s hurtful.”

“I didn’t want to see anyone,” Dean muttered, not meeting their eyes.

“Well, tough shit,” Charlie snapped. “We’re your friends. We’re not going to leave you alone.”

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “Look, it isn’t even that bad, alright. Trust me.”

“What do you mean?” Victor piped in, eyes wide. “Have there been worse things? Oh my god, does that mean that time you said you got shot with the BB gun, it was actually—.”

“Dude!” Jo snapped. “Enough with the twenty-one questions, alright? Dean, we know your dad was a piece of shit. We don’t care. Guys, lay off Dean. He’s been through enough.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Dean played with the ends of his bed sheet, keeping his eyes fixed on the bed.

“So…where’s Cas?” Dean asked, hoping his cheeks were not betraying him and displaying his discomfort.

“He, uh, couldn’t come,” Anna said awkwardly.

Dean’s eyes snapped to her, and he frowned. Anna wouldn’t meet his eye. “What was he doing?”

“Oh, you know…stuff.”

Dean glowered. So Cas didn’t want to see him, was that it? Well, it wasn’t like he could hope for much. He really wasn’t that close to the dark-haired boy. He’d just thought...well, honestly, he’d thought he and Cas had gotten pretty close. Apparently not, though.

“So you wanted to see Cas but not us?” Victor grumbled. “We’ve been your friends longer.”

“This isn’t about who we like best,” Sam snapped. “We’re not a fucking pity party. This, this whole fiasco, it happened to us. It’s not what we are.”

Tense silence followed. Nobody could meet Sam’s eyes. Finally, Charlie spoke. “Sorry,” she said, still staring at the ground. “We just felt…I’m angry that this happened. You don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, well…shit happens,” Dean muttered.

“At least it’s over now,” Anna added tentatively. “Jo said you guys were going to stay with her.”

“Yeah, at least until I turn eighteen,” Dean nodded. “Then I’ll be off to college. By then, I’ll have enough money saved up to take care of Sam until he goes off to college.”

“What college are you attending?” Anna asked curiously.

The question brought a lighter mood to the room. Anna probably didn’t mean for the conversation to turn into everybody’s plans for the future, but it did. Mr. Kelly had talked about Dean about a few colleges with excellent engineering courses, and Dean was interested in a couple of them. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but when he brought it up, nobody looked surprised.

His friends stayed with him until the nurse came in and kicked them all out. That left Sam and Dean by themselves.

“The doctor said you can leave tomorrow,” Sam said quietly. “Bobby said we can go live with him and Ellen. I’ve already started moving some of our stuff to an empty room.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, blinking up at the ceiling. “Sam, I…”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam interrupted immediately. “We’re okay.”

Dean fought off tears. He wanted nothing more than to keep Sam safe. He had thought keeping his father happy was the best way to do that, but he had been wrong. Now, everything was all…wrong. He didn’t want to be a burden to Bobby and Ellen. He didn’t want Sam to worry about him. He didn’t want his friends to pity him.

He just wanted it to be Sam and Dean against the world.

“Scoot over,” Sam said suddenly, pushing him. Dean obeyed, moving to the edge of the bed and leaving enough space for Sam to climb in. It was a tight squeeze, and they had to cuddle to make it work, but Dean didn’t mind. It reminded him of when Sam was ten and he climbed in Dean’s bed during a bad storm.

“You don’t have to worry so much, Dean,” Sam murmured to his chest, where his head was resting. “No everything is up to you.”

“I’m your older brother—.”

“Yeah, brother,” Sam said, and Dean could practically hear the roll of eyes. “Not my parent. I just want you to be my brother again, Dean. Worry about girls and school. Be the cool kid I look up to. Worry about college and stuff. Not about paying bills or making dinner. That’s what I want. I want us to be kids, to be brothers.”

“I want you to cut your hair,” Dean joked. Sam smacked his shoulder, but Dean could feel the smile against his side. He hesitated, but…he really wanted to tell someone.

“Sam…I think…I have a crush on someone.”

“A crush? Who is it?” Sam asked excitedly. “Is it Cassie? Charlie? She seems your type, but I think she might be gay. She just keeps staring at Jo and—.”

“Not Charlie—and yeah, she’s gay,” Dean said quickly. “And so am I.”

There was silence, then: “What?”

“I think I might be gay?” Dean rushed out. “I mean, not totally gay, ‘cause I still like girls, so maybe bi? But then I met this guy, and he’s like smoking hot, but he’s also nice and smart and funny and I think I really, really might like him. And it’s weird, you know, because I’ve never thought I could be gay before, but I’ve noticed guys, like if they’re good-looking or not, but never thought much of it. And he’s just so cute—.”

“Dean,” Sam cut in, and Dean immediately shut up. “Who is it?”

“Cas,” Dean squeaked. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Castiel,” in a more normal voice.

“Castiel? Anna’s brother? He’s….he’s okay,” Sam shrugged. “You guys do make a cute couple.”

“We do not!” Dean exclaimed, too affronted by the words to take in the meaning. “Wait, what?”

“Well, I knew you liked him,” Sam said. “But I thought just like a friend. Maybe best friend? I did think it was weird you asked about him….wait, is he gay?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged. “I haven’t asked.”

“You should ask him out,” Sam said confidently.

“No, I…what if he says no?” Dean asked, voice quiet and small.

“Then at least you’ll know,” Sam said.

“You don’t mind that I’m, you know—.”

“No, Dean,” Sam sighed. “I love you. And if you’re worried about what people will think, don’t. No one will care. Just ask him out…he seems good for you.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured. He should just ask him out. Cas would probably say no, but at least Dean would get it off his chest. And maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad. Maybe Cas would still like to be his friend. And Dean would meet another girl—or guy—and maybe fall for them.

Yeah, just maybe.


	12. The Turnaround

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was running a bit late on this one. And did you guys watch the season premier? What an episode, amiright?

Dean was released early in the morning the next day. The swelling on his eye had gone down enough for him to see, but it was still an ugly, purplish-black color. It still hurt to breathe, but the doctor had told him his ribs were just bruised, not broken. And thankfully, his shoulder was just a bit sprained, and not dislocated. The doctor assured him he could start practicing within two weeks, but to wait an extra week to play in an actual game.

That meant Dean would miss three games, but he could go back to playing before they headed off to Playoffs.

Ellen, uncharacteristically, let him skip his first day back to school, but when he tried to skip the second day, she practically kicked him out of bed.

“—and wake your brother, too!” she yelled, slamming the door close behind her.

Dean glared at her, but was too afraid to snap back. He knew better than to mess with Ellen.

“Sam,” he grumbled, poking at the sleeping form sleeping on the bottom bunk. “Wake up.”

“Mff,” Sam muttered, pushing his hand away. Dean continued to insistently poke his side until his brother groaned and sat up. His hair looked like birds had nested on it, and there was a dark spot of spit on his pillow.

“Nice,” Dean commented.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, stumbling out of bed. “I call shower.”

“Take a towel, at least,” Dean called after him. “You don’t wanna flash Jo.”

Sam waved his assent and stumbled out of the room.

Dean wasted a couple more minutes on bed before he finally gathered the strength to get up. The mirror on the wall showed a less purplish bruise covering his left eye and cheekbone.

The bruises running down his side looked—and felt—painful. It still hurt to take in deep breaths, but the doctor had recommended them. That, and lots of ice. He couldn’t rotate his shoulders all the way, and there was an angry red stripe around it, where his dad had kicked him.

Dean traced the bruise with his fingers. It felt….weird, looking at himself. It wasn’t the bruises, per se, that bother him, but what they meant. What people would think once they looked at him.

He shook his head. Sam would get pissed if he knew he was thinking like that again.

“Dean! Come down to eat!”

“Coming!” Dean yelled. He took another look in the mirror, hesitated, then slipped a shirt on.

 

He met with Miss Naomi before school. He could still work on the Decathlon, now more that he couldn’t work so hard on football.

“Miss Rosen assured me that you weren’t involved in any violence,” Miss Naomi said, glaring at him over the rim of her glasses. “In any case, I don’t think it is necessary to remind you that fighting in school is not permitted, and it is grounds for immediate expulsion.”

“I know, ma’am,” Dean said, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Miss Naomi stared at him hard for a couple of awkward seconds, then lowered her gaze. “In any case, I’m glad to see you back in school, Mr. Winchester. The next challenge isn’t due for another six days, so you have plenty of time to prepare. Take the day off, then show up here bright and early tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will see you tomorrow.”

Miss Naomi simply nodded and waved him away.

Dean expected Coach Turner to react in a more explosive manner, but he was almost as calm as Miss Naomi. Well, not calm…more like…nervous? He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye, and he kept fidgeting with his hands. It wasn’t until Dean caught sight of an old picture on Coach Turner’s desk that he remembered his Coach was an ex-police man.

Officer Henrickson had probably told him all about his father. Or maybe Bobby had. Coach Turner was an old friend of Bobby’s after all. But Bobby wouldn’t—would he?

“Dean?” Coach Turner called out, bringing him back to the present. “You okay, son?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean nodded, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “I should be fine to go back to practice in a couple of weeks. I won’t miss a lot.”

“That’s fine, son. Take your time,” Coach Turner said. “We can put Pablo up for QB. That means we will have to bench Castiel, since the boy can’t catch anything if you’re not throwing it.”

“Sorry,” Dean said.

“Don’t worry, Dean. You’re not the only guy on the team, you know. Now, go on to class. I don’t want you missing any more work.”

“Yes, Coach,” Dean nodded.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to go back to class. In a stupid surge of courage, he had promised Sam that he would ask Castiel out. But now, back to his normal state of mind, he realized just how stupid that promise was.

Why ruin a good thing? He and Cas were fine just the way they were. They were good friends—at least, Dean thought so.

Castiel hadn’t called him once since Friday. His phone had been blowing off all day and night for three days with text messages from his other friends, but nothing as of yet for Castiel. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he care?

Dean didn’t want to ask. So when Mr. Kelly’s class came along, Dean sat all the way in the back and hid under his hoodie.

He heard a chair scrape against the floor, and looked up to see Castiel taking the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Dean,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Do you feel cold?”

“Wh—? No,” Dean frowned. “Why’d you ask?”

“It is quite warm, yet you are wearing a sweater,” Castiel said, nodding to Dean’s hoodie.

“I’m not cold,” Dean muttered. “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Castiel said, and turned to face the front.

Dean stared at him. What the hell? Was Castiel simply going to pretend nothing had happened? All of his friends—including Charlie and Anna, who he still didn’t know that well—had tiptoed around him. They kept pestering him with how are you feelings and are you sure you’re okays. And Castiel only had do you feel cold?

What the fuck?

He did know what had happened, right? Didn’t he want to make sure Dean was okay? Wasn’t he going to mention the eggplant purple bruise covering half his face?

Wasn’t he going to care?

“Yeah, I’m getting used to the cold as of late,” Dean said forcedly. “You know, since I have to ice my face and chest so much. For the bruises.”

“Mmh-hmm,” Castiel murmured, still not sparing a glance towards Dean.

What the hell?

“Dean, do you know the answer to question five?” Mr. Kelly called out loud.

Dean turned to him and caught the barely-there wince on his teacher’s face. See, that was a proper response! Not a fucking mmh-hmm.

“It’s X  is equal to one, negative one, and three.”

“Correct. Now, Miss Smith…”

Dean blocked out Mr. Kelly and tried not to stare too much at Castiel. He failed, of course. By the time the class ended, Castiel had not glanced at him even once. Not even to ask for a stupid, fucking pencil. No, he went and asked stupid Leslie Patel.

God, there was something seriously wrong with Dean if he got jealous over a freaking pencil. He wasn’t supposed to be the jealous type. He wasn’t possessive, or anything. At least, he had never been with any of the girls he’d dated.

When class ended, Dean hurried out of the classroom, ignoring Charlie and Anna. He skipped lunch, not wanting to be the center of attention in the crowded room.

Unfortunately, his only hiding place was the library, which was occupied by—you guessed right!—Castiel.

“Dean…what a surprise,” Castiel said, staring at him from atop his large book.

“Oh, hey Cas. Sorry to bother you, I’ll leave,” Dean said quickly.

“You’re not a bother,” Castiel said before he could make his escape. “Take a seat.”

Apparently not smart enough to think of an excuse, he obeyed. “So…what are you reading?” Dean asked, playing with a string on his hoodie.

“The Odyssey,” Castiel said, still reading his book.

“Oh.”

Dean glanced around the library. Even if Galilei was full of smart kids, the library was empty. He could hear the soft sound of wheels turning, which probably meant the old librarian was somewhere stacking books. Castiel would be the only one nerdy enough to read during lunch.

“Look, I’ll just go,” Dean said after a couple of minutes of awkward silence.

“What? No!” Castiel exclaimed, grabbing hold of his wrist. Dean froze, and Castiel flinched back. “I mean, you can stay,” he added in a quieter voice, taking his hand back.

“Alright…I’ll go pick a book, then,” Dean said, and Castiel nodded, back on his book.

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up. Who the hell read during lunch? Cas did. Oh, and Sam.

Nerds.

Dean had only gone to the library a couple of times, since this was where the Decathlon team met. It was pretty impressive, he could admit. Nice, carpeted floors. Books that were not dog-eared or had crude drawings on them.

It took him a while, but he finally found a book that looked interesting. It was On the Road. He had started reading it a couple of years ago, but had never actually finished it. It was on the very top shelf, so he had to climb the bookshelf to get to it.

Unfortunately, these bookshelves were not used to having 6 feet tall kids climbing them, and Dean felt the shelf shift underneath him. He jumped off the shelf quickly, but not without dragging a dozen of books down with him.

He landed on his ass, and a dozen of hard covers landed on top of him, probably giving him a handful of extra bruises and making an embarrassingly loud noise.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed.

“Dean!”

He looked up to see a panicky Castiel. The boy quickly took in the sight before him and Dean visibly saw him sigh in relief.

“Oh, it was only a couple,” Castiel smiled, bending down to pick up the books.

Dean almost saw red. “You fucking ass!” he yelled, throwing Cas a book. The shorter boy flinched back, barely missing the hard book.

“Dean?”

“I was in the fucking hospital!” Dean yelled. “I almost died, and you’re worried about the books? I thought we were friends, dude! You didn’t even visit me!”

“I’m—I’m sorry?” Castiel wavered, staring at him with wide, scared eyes.

The fight left Dean as suddenly as it had arrived. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “No, it’s—you’re fine. I’m sorry I threw a book at you. That was, that was mean.”

“I thought—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” Castiel murmured.

Dean’s eyes snapped to him. “What?

Castiel picked up a book and played with the pages. “At the hospital. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“Why would you think that?” Dean asked, bewildered.

Castiel rolled his eyes—the first time Dean had seen him do something like that. “I know you have been avoiding me, Dean. I mean, I usually don’t notice things like that, but I noticed when you did it. And I’m sorry. I am not used to having people I like and I may have acted inappropriately. I thought you would only want your closest friends at the hospital with you—I know I would have. And then, Anna informed me that you didn’t like when people worried about your wounds, so I kept quiet.”

“Oh,” Dean said stupidly. “I mean…I’m sorry. I was avoiding you for a little while, but not because of anything bad, I swear. And I do think you’re a close friend, Cas. I would’ve totally been okay with having you visit me at the hospital. And you’re allowed to worry when a freaking bookshelf falls on top of me.”

“Thank god,” Castiel smiled. “I thought you would be upset when I told you. And I’m glad you still think of me as a friend. That’s enough for me.”

“Told me what?” Dean frowned, confused.

Castiel frowned, too. “That I like you? I thought you knew?”

“Well, yeah, as friends, but you said—wait, you mean you like me?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Yes? I mean, n-no. Of course not, why would you think that? I meant friends, of course I meant friends. I like you like I like Charlie or Ash, or even Benny and Victor!”

Dean watched as Castiel floundered for an answer and a ridiculous thought popped into his head.

Did stuff like this really happen? How could Dean be called a genius when he missed stuff like this? Castiel liked him. How in hell had Dean not realized it before? It was obvious. Like, stupidly obvious. Castiel was blushing, for fuck’s sake!

What the hell had he been smoking that he didn’t notice it before?

“…strictly heterosexual relationship. Friends, best friends! Er, no just friends—.”

“Cas, I like you, too,” Dean interrupted, laughing. This really couldn’t be happening. He would never tell Sam, of course. His brother would never let him live it down. Dean the Casanova didn’t realize someone liked him? And why? Because he had been too busy worrying about his own crush.

Castiel froze. “You like me? As in…?”

“As in I would really like to kiss you now,” Dean admitted.

Castiel blushed and glanced away. “I would like that, too,” he whispered.

Dean grinned and leaned in, wincing at the sharp pain in his stomach. He ignored it in favor of pressing his lips—finally!—to Castiel’s. They were chapped, of course, but they were also warm.

Dean kept the kiss PG, only a press of lips, then leaned back.

“So I guess we’re dating now?” Dean asked, scratching his neck awkwardly.

“I guess we are,” Castiel said, smiling softly.

Dean returned the smile, feeling quite cheesy. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad a feeling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had little time to edit this one. Sorry for my mistakes


	13. Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I have the biggest writer's block ever!!!! Take this fluff as an apology

Dean couldn’t believe he was dating Cas. Not only because it was Cas, but well, Cas was a guy.

It turned out, though, that when they were kissing, Dean didn’t care that much. And they kissed a lot. Sam, of course, noticed immediately. He practically dragged the truth out of Dean, then, like any true brother, teased him to no end.

They were a week into dating when someone else found out. It wasn’t that Dean was trying to keep a secret, really, he just didn’t want a big coming out party. He was still worried about the whole ordeal with his Dad, and sometimes he couldn’t help but be nervous about coming out as bisexual to his friends.

Cas didn’t have such ideas about gender or sexual orientation. When Dean had asked him if he was gay or bi, Cas had simply shrugged and said he didn’t know.

“I’ve only ever liked you,” Castiel answered earnestly. “So I honestly have not given it much thought.”

The confession, of course, had brought on a heavy make-out session that only stopped when Castiel reminded him they had homework to finish.

It was after practice that it happened.

Since Dean was still too hurt to practice, and Castiel sucked unless it was Dean throwing the ball, Coach Turner had them working as ball boys. That meant not only running after astray balls, but also washing the dirty uniforms, cleaning the locker room, and basically being a maid to the football team. Dean could understand why nobody wanted the job.

“How fucking disgusting can a person be?” Dean grumbled, pinching his nose as he picked up dirty socks and jockstraps from the floor.

“They work hard. It is normal for their clothes to have an unpleasant odor,” Castiel replied calmly as he unsuccessfully tried to glue back the sole of a pair of cleats. “Coach Turner should really invest in new shoes.”

Dean stared at his boyfriend—it still felt weird to think of Castiel as that—and grinned. “Hey, Cas? Can you c’mere for a second?”

Castiel frowned. “What for?”

“Please?” Dean asked, pouting just a little bit. Dean rarely used it, but he knew his kicked puppy face was way better than Sam’s.

Castiel sighed and glared at him, but obeyed. He stopped in front of Dean and raised his arms as if saying well???

Dean only grinned wider and wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, and buried his face on the boy’s neck.

“Oh yeah,” he sighed. “You smell nice.”

“Dean, stop messing around,” Castiel grumbled.

“But it smells bad,” Dean whined, wrapping his arms tighter around Castiel. “And I wanna kiss you.” He planted a few open-mouth kisses to Castiel’s neck and felt the boy shudder. “Like it?”

“We’re at school,” Castiel reminded him.

“We’ve made out at school before,” Dean grinned. “Remember?”

“Dean,” Castiel protested, but Dean ignored him, leaning in to kiss him. Castiel went easily, despite his protests, and sighed into the kiss.

Of course, that’s when the locker room door burst open and in walked Jerry and Thomas.

Dean and Castiel jumped apart, and Jerry and Thomas froze.

“Practice’s over,” Thomas said numbly, while Jerry stared with his mouth open.

“O-oh,” Dean stuttered.

“What happened?” Kyle asked, walking in behind them.

Dean watched in horror as the locker room filled with sweaty guys half-dressed and drenched in sweat.

“T-they w-were…are you guys dating?” Jerry finally blurted, and Dean would’ve laughed at the expression in his face if he weren’t so worried about the sudden silence.

“We’re not!” Castiel exclaimed at the same time Dean mumbled out a “yeah.”

Dean glanced at him. “Cas?”

“Oh, I thought you wouldn’t…I mean, do you?” Castiel asked, stumbling over his words.

“Well, I guess,” Dean shrugged. This was not the way he had imagined it was going to be, but he wasn’t going to deny what he had with Cas. He just couldn’t do that to Cas. Besides, how could anyone deny being gay when they were caught kissing another guy in a locker room?

Dean felt the burning gaze of over two dozen football players and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “So…yeah…we’re dating.”

Dean expected an uproar, he expected a few angry insults or some disgusted faces. Instead, he got mostly confusion, disinterest, and mild concern. Most of his team mates nodded at his confession and went about their business. There were a few that were still gazing at him and Cas confusedly, but Dean didn’t sense any hostility in the room. His eyes, especially, were glued to Victor and Benny, but both of his best friends seemed busier getting out of their sweaty uniform.

The only one still gaping was Jerry. When Dean turned his eyes to him, the younger boy blinked and blurted out “So…isn’t it going to be awkward?”

“What’s gonna be awkward?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice friendly despite his nervousness. A few people looked up in interest, but no one butted in.

“Well…you like guys now. Cas likes guys….and we’re all guys,” Jerry said, glancing around the room.

“You are making obvious observations,” Castiel said, cocking his head to the side like he did every time he was confused. “But you are not making any sense.”

“I mean, we wouldn’t have a girl here, would we?” Jerry asked the room, laughing a little nervously.

Dean frowned, finally getting it. He had expected it, obviously. He was sure some of his team mates would feel uncomfortable with him now. After all, Dean couldn’t deny that, if before, one of his teammates had come out as gay, he wouldn’t have felt uncomfortable getting dressed in front of them.

“Are you trying to say you’re worried Dean will look at you while you change?” Benny scoffed. “Dude, he just said he was dating Cas. Who the fuck is gonna look at you when they have Cas as a boyfriend?”

“Girls don’t even wanna look at you,” Kyle snorted.

“Besides, this is Dean we’re talking about. He’ll be doing you a favor by checking you out,” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m an attractive man!” Jerry retorted. “Gay guys like me!”

“Yeah right. They’ve got like crazy high standards,” Victor said, shrugging on a plain white tee. “You’re like a three.”

“I am at least an eight,” Jerry scoffed. “Dean! you’re attracted to me, right ?”

Dean glanced at Cas, confused by the turns of events, then back at Jerry. “Not really.”

“See?” Victor said, laughing. “Dude, you are butt ugly.”

“I am not!” Jerry exclaimed. “You guys are just jealous. And Dean is just saying that because Castiel is right there. You know what, we’re making a list. Who’s the hottest in the team, right now!”

Dean turned to Cas, ignoring his arguing team mates. “What just happened?”

“I believe we ‘came out’,” Castiel said, making air quotes with his fingers. “It wasn’t as unpleasant as multiple young adult novels seem to suggest.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You studied what coming out what’s going to be like?”

“I am nothing if not prepared,” Castiel shrugged. “I have studied many aspects of social life that one usually learns by experience. You should be familiar with my methods. After all, it is how I established our friendship.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, confused.

“When I first met you, I established a connection by mentioning something about you. In your case, your clothes,” Castiel began.

“You mean, when you insulted them?” Dean frowned.

“I did not insult them. I merely stated that you appeared to follow the unusual fashion trend of destroying one’s clothes.”

“Except my clothes were just old, and that’s why they were ripped,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“Which I did not know. I followed my attempt at friendship by offering you help, establishing myself as a helpful and hopeful friend candidate. You responded favorably by giving me a nickname, just like you had for all of your other friends. To solidify our newfound friendship, I initiated a game of sport, and well…here were are. I must say, for my first attempt at creating a friendship, I was pretty successful,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “I must truly do it more often.”

“Wait…you planned our friendship?” Dean exclaimed.

“Of course,” Castiel responded gravely. “Upon seeing you, I was immediately taken. I did not understand at first, but I knew that I had to be by your side. I was not proven wrong.”

Dean stared at Castiel, mouth slightly agape. Cas had done all of that, for him? He had liked him since the beginning? A sudden rush of affection surged inside of him, and—ignoring all of his teammates—he leaned in and kissed Castiel deeply.

“God, I like you so much,” Dean whispered, brushing his nose against Castiel’s.

“Me, too,” Castiel responded, smiling.

“No, no, no!” Jerry exclaimed, his voice almost a shout. “I understand why Dean and Cas are number one and two on the list, but why Benny on third? Jordan is way hotter. He has green eyes and black hair. Not to mention he’s rich!”

“Yeah, but Benny has that accent,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “So Jordan stays on fourth.”

“Are they really making a list?” Castiel asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “They’re idiots, what did you expect?”

Castiel smiled and shook his head. “Benny definitely deserves third place.”

 

After they came out to the entire football team, it was of no surprise when the entire school suddenly knew that Dean Winchester—Captain of the football team, Mr. Popularity, and infamous lady’s man—was dating Castiel Novak—the awkward, yet genius Galilei student. Not everyone responded as well as Dean’s team mates had, but considering they were right smack in the middle of redneck territory, Dean really wasn’t that surprised.

He really didn’t have any problems, though. He was still Dean Winchester, the guy who had beat up four guys single handedly outside a bar, and no one was stupid enough to insult him to his face.

The first problem came in the form of Miss Naomi.

Dean, of course, had thought of her reaction before. Would she care that he and Castiel were dating? He had braved his father, though, and the thought of facing Miss Naomi somehow didn’t seem as daunting.

But she was still a scary woman, and when he arrived at the Galilei library after school for the Decathlon meeting, he was cornered by a very angry, very intimidating middle aged woman.

“Anna has informed me that you and Castiel are dating?” she said to Dean, staring at him over the rim of her glasses. “I hope, surprisingly, that she was lying.”

“Um…no, ma’am,” Dean said awkwardly, glancing around the table. Anna was staring at her notes, her ears bright red. Ash and Kevin were very interested in their hands, and Charlie had her face buried in her phone. No one met his eye, not even Castiel, who was too busy frowning at his mother.

“Do you have a problem with my relationship with Dean, Mother?” Castiel asked, his voice quiet.

“Of course I do!” Miss Naomi snapped. Dean jumped and winced, but before he could say anything, Miss Naomi continued. “This is not the time to be distracted by relationships! We are in the middle of a very important and highly competitive event. We cannot afford any distractions, Castiel. You and Dean are my biggest assets and I will not have you distracted by such things as hormones!”

“It is not your choice!” Castiel snapped, surprising everyone.

“Cas,” Dean said quickly, trying to stop a fight before it began. “It’s okay.”

“No, Dean, it is not,” Castiel said, lowering his voice. “I will not end my relationship with Dean, Mother. I will continue to work my hardest to win the Decathlon, but I will not sacrifice my time with Dean. I am sick and tired of you trying to dictate how I run my life!”

“Castiel!” Miss Naomi gasped. “I simply want what is best for you! What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me, Mother,” Castiel said, his voice still quiet and controlled. “I finally have something that I want, and I will not let you take it away. I will not change my mind.”

“Well,” Miss Naomi began, her voice tight. “I hope you know that I do not agree with you at all.”

“And I hope you know that I, quite frankly, do not care,” Castiel retorted.

Miss Naomi recoiled as if slapped and there was a collective gasp around the room. She stared at Castiel for a moment, eying him as if looking at a stranger, then suddenly stood up and left.

There was quiet moment, then Anna blurted: “That. Was. Amazing!”

“Wow, Castiel,” Charlie agreed.

“I have never seen Miss Naomi look so angry,” Ash whispered. “She’s scary as fuck.”

“Are you sure it’s fine?” Dean asked Castiel. “I don’t want you to have a problem with her, Cas.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Castiel assured him. “It will take time, but Mother will understand. She is only concerned about the competition. When we win, she will forget all about this.”

“Cas is right,” Anna added. “Our dear old mom doesn’t care what we do, unless it directly goes against something she said. She’s just mad because she thinks you guys are going to be too busy making out to answer questions correctly.”

“Congratulations on the hook up, by the way,” Ash said.

“Yeah, you guys make a cute couple,” Kevin added, smiling.

“Thanks,” Dean grinned. “We should really get started on this challenge before Miss Naomi comes back. Give her one less thing to complain about.”

“Ugh, yes,” Charlie groaned. “If we make twenty-seven points in this challenge, we will go on to the Panel Challenges.”

“What are those?” Dean asked, curious.

“Basically the same thing,” Anna shrugged. “You answer a bunch of questions based on a given topic. The only difference is that this is timed and you do it in front of a panel of judges. I think the next Panel is in Higgins High.”

“I hate those pricks,” Ash mumbled. “They’re stuck up, daddy’s boys.”

“I heard Michael Grace’s father is one of the judges,” Kevin said. “You know they’re definitely going to play favorites.”

“Mother used to date one of the judges. A Ferguson Crowley, I believe,” Castiel said. “Their relationship did not end well.”

“That creepy English dude? Ugh, he’s such a jerk,” Anna groaned. “We have to be perfect. Can’t give them any reason to mark one of our answers wrong.”

“So you guys know all of the judges?” Dean asked.

“It’s four of them. Ferguson Crowley, Jody Mills, John Metatron, and Raphael Grace.”

“Our cousins Gabriel and Alfie lost against Higgins last year at the semifinals,” Anna said. “They marked Gabriel’s answer wrong because he said fifty-eight, instead of fifty-eight kilometers per hour. Like, who does that?”

“Well, let’s finish this challenge with a perfect score,” Dean said, getting comfortable on the wooden chair. “Show those Higgins jerks we’re not gonna be that easy to beat.”

His friends made noises of agreement and focused on their respective topics. Castiel leaned in close to Dean and squeezed his thigh.

Dean jumped, surprised, and glanced at Cas.

“Sorry about my Mother,” he whispered.

“It’s fine,” Dean shrugged. “I kind of expected it. Got kind of hot, though, with you defending me and all that.”

Castiel blushed, and glanced away. Dean grinned, satisfied, until Cas squeezed his thigh again, this time a little bit higher, and he had to cough to cover an embarrassingly loud squeak.

He caught Castiel’s responding smile from the corner of his eye.

Cheeky bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


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